


Dragon Age: Black Warden

by beanball



Series: Trials of Cousland [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fantasy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanball/pseuds/beanball
Summary: The second book of the Trials of Cousland series.The Warden and Morrigan try to make a life together as all Ferelden celebrates the wedding of the century between The Warden and his golden-eyed witch, but the Order of Blood and Silas, a former protege of The Warden, have other ideas. Can The Warden stop this new cult before its grasp spreads to all of Ferelden?





	1. Chapter 1

**Part I**

Ferelden is a land that has seen little peace in its long history. Each century is marked with its own unique tale of plague,war,and death. From the Exalted Marches carried out by the Chantry, whose goal it is to purge all heathens from the land, spilling much blood in the process, to the periodic blights, whereby Ferelden is set upon by hordes of the vile beasts known as darkspawn. Ferelden is repeatedly in a state of violence. Barely thirty years earlier the Orlisian invaders, who had ruled for a century, were finally expelled. This was, of course, followed by yet another blight.

For the time being, at least, there was peace. The rebuilding efforts needed after the last Blight swept across Ferelden were nearly complete. The Grey Wardens had a new headquarters in Amaranthine at Vigil's Keep and had begun the slow task of filling their ranks with recruits. The Warden had stepped down as Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden to help Alistair in the rebuilding and to address personal matters. Matters involving a certain raven-haired witch.

She had left after the archdemon was slain. And as soon as he was able to, he went after her. It took him months of searching, but he finally found her hiding out in a particularly treacherous part of the Bracillian Forest. But even then they would not know peace as Morrigan's mother, Flemeth, made her return. The manipulative hag nearly destroyed them in her mad quest to free the old god, Urthemiel.

But the days of blights and shape-changing demons were behind The Warden. At long last he and his witch would live out their days in the shadow of a Visparis Oak that grew by a bend in a small river near Castle Cousland in Highever. The unfinished cottage that Flemeth had smashed had been rebuilt and was nearly complete. All that was lacking was the interior furnishings. At the witch's request, he had scaled down the size of their home from before, making it more of a cottage and less of a manor. Still, there would be plenty of room. The Warden greatly looked forward to retiring his blades and settling down.

Unknown to The Warden, however, storm clouds were gathering on the far horizon. A foe greater than any he had faced before loomed in the distance. In the coming days, both he and his witch would be tested. Sadly, those who pair against the wishes of the gods must often face such hurdles.

The dark purple satin easily slid through Morrigan's hands as she inspected it. The fabric had been cut into a long ribbon some twenty feet in length and nearly six inches wide. Small gold embroidery had been stitched along the borders. This ribbon would join several dozen others of purple, white, and blue, that already hung from the ceiling in the main hall of Castle Cousland.

Large silver vases, holding rare and exotic flowers, were being arranged and placed in predetermined locations, their aroma filling the entire hall. The long table that usually sat in the center of the room had been removed and replaced with several rows of chairs to accommodate many guests, separated down the middle by an aisle covered in a rich red carpet.

There was hardly any time left to make sure everything was ready. And while Leliana had assured the witch that all would be perfect, Morrigan had severe doubts. This wasn't just any event they were planning, it was a wedding. Morrigan's wedding to be exact. And so far nothing had gone right at all.

"Leliana..." the witch said as she walked over to the bard and held the satin up for inspection, "do you not see this? The stitching is uneven. This shall not do. Send it back."

"You sent back the last six orders. You're going to have to pick something, otherwise there won't be any fabric left in Ferelden."

"'Tis not my concern. If there is no seamstress in Ferelden who can stitch a straight line then we shall have to look elsewhere."

"You can't be serious." the bard replied, turning to the witch to give her full attention. "It would take more than a month to get that much satin from Orlais or Antiva. You're getting married in just over a week, there simply isn't enough time."

The witch held the cloth in her hand, casting an evil eye at it. After a moment her expression changed to one of relent. "Very well, this will do." she said with a sigh.

"Everything will be just fine. You'll see." The bard consoled. "You worry too much and that isn't good for you."

"Were it your wedding, would you not do the same as I?"

"You set fire to the poor tailor's trousers!" Leliana exclaimed, reminding the witch.

"Twas but a small spark. He deserved far greater, I assure you." Morrigan quipped.

"Because he made a small mistake on your gown?"

"He should not proclaim himself 'The best tailor in Ferelden' if he is not. He was an arrogant fool and nothing more. We are rid of him and better for it."

"So I guess we'll have to make do with the second best tailor in Ferelden." Leliana said with a smirk. "Which reminds me, the chef will have more samples of the dishes he's preparing. Please try to pick something. Anything. And don't yell at the poor man this time. He's skittish around you enough as it is."

"What makes you think I will yell at him?" the witch asked, almost shocked Leliana would say such a thing.

"Last time you said, and I quote, 'he was an insipid little nothing of a man whose mother should eternally beg forgiveness for having birthed such a wretched creature'."

"Ah...I did at that." Morrigan meekly agreed.

"Maybe I'd better go with you this time."

"Later. Now there is an appointment I must keep." the witch said as she turned and placed the purple fabric on the table next to her her. "I shall meet with you when I return."

The loud clanging of swords striking against each other echoed through the trees of a small clump of forest that sprouted up along the countryside of Highever. Inside a clearing within the woods, The Warden was as he could often be found, engaging an opponent in swordplay. Sweat glistened on his brow and a broad smile was on his face. The combatant he faced was clearly of far inferior skill with a blade. Still, he made no attempts at a killing blow, instead choosing to study and observe his opponent as they fought their way around the clearing.

He would intentionally leave himself open to attack, only to elude his assailant at the last second and approach from a different angle, flanking his startled opponent and administering a quick whack on the backside with the flat of his blade. With a blood-curdling scream of rage, his foe charged in for the kill. The Warden simply stepped back, hooked his blade between hand and handle, and deftly deprived his opponent of a weapon.

Just after stumbling to the ground, a woman's yell of anger erupted from underneath the helmet of his adversary. With a quick flip of her hand, Morrigan flung the metal helmet off her head, which landed on the ground with a loud "clank!".

"You are really beginning to piss me off!" She hissed at The Warden. "You are aware of this, are you not?"

"Hey, you're the one who said don't go easy on you." he answered back, trying to sound as innocent as he possibly could. "Sometimes your opponent will try to get you angry. You have to learn how to use that to your advantage instead of letting it make you reckless."

"Yes...'tis as you've said before." the witch muttered with a sigh as she took his outstretched arm and allowed him to pull her up.

Placing his arms around her waist, he looked at her and said, "You need to learn how to control that temper of yours."

"My temper..." she paused, sliding her arms seductively over The Warden's shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes, "my temper is entirely under control."

"Uh-huh. Is that so?" he asked, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow at her.

"Mm-Hmm." she purred in return as she moved her lips closer to his, hoping he would take the not-so-subtle hint.

"You little minx." he said as a wry grin crept across his face.

He, of course, obliged the witch. Pressing his lips against hers. Lightly at first, almost like small nibbles of her, then deeply and passionately as his lips drank of her. His hands clasped, tightly squeezing the fleshy cheeks of her posterior, and lifted her up to him, her legs wrapping around him.

He leaned her up against a tree as his mouth continued to ravage her, behind her ears, down her long neck, and down between her breasts. She writhed in ecstasy beneath his skilled touch, unable to speak, save for the moans that escaped her, until at long last she was finally able to form a single word. "Dwemer..." she moaned.

"Hmm?" he mumbled as his mouth continued to work it's magic on her body.

"Dwemer...we must..._oh that feels so good_...we must...stop." the witch was finally able to say.

"Stop?" he muttered as he drifted lower with his soft kisses, "Why?"

She grabbed the sides of his head and pulled his gaze up to hers. "I must still choose which meal is to be served at the wedding."

"Can't you do that later?"

"I've put it off long enough. Leliana no doubt waits for me in the kitchen even now. I would prefer that my knickers not be soggy while making such a choice."

"So, don't wear any." he teased.

"I am quite sure you would enjoy that to no end." she said, grinning slyly at him.

Soon it became clear to him from the look in her eyes that he had indeed gotten as far as he would get this round. "Alright, I guess I can wait until later." he whined with disappointment in his eyes.

"Until tonight, my love." she said as she caressed his face with her hand and placed a tender kiss on his cheek before departing back to the castle. He stood there awhile and watched her for as long as she was in his sight. It was something he often did. He would think about her being the woman he would spend the rest of his life with, that in just a few short days they would be married. And that's when the chill would run down his spine.

While The Warden greatly looked forward to spending his life with Morrigan, at the same time thought of being her husband petrified him. Would he even be able to be what she desired in a husband? Would he be able to live up to what his own expectation of what proper husband should be? These questions gnawed at him constantly, more so the closer to the fateful day he got. Maybe it was time to have a talk with Fergus, before the anxiety threatened to completely destroy his nerves.

"It's about time you got here." Leliana said to Morrigan as she entered the castle's large kitchen. "I've been waiting here for over half an hour."

"My apologies. My appointment kept me longer than expected." the witch offered in reply.

Before them were several plates laid out on a large table. Each of the plates contained a separate dish from which the witch could chose for her wedding feast. The pair sampled each of the chef's offerings, making comments on them, until Morrigan had at last found the dish she desired most, noting that it was by far the best of the bunch.

She inquired to the chef what the dish was named and what it's ingredients were as she continued to sample the tasty dish. The chef informed her that the dish was called a Merlan's Tart after the small tavern in Highever that first served them. It was comprised of lamb wrapped in a flatbread and seasoned with parsley and sage. A small dash of Antivan Gitonia cheese is then crumbled over the top...

"Cheese...?" the witch said, interrupting the chef's detailed explanation. "Oh, dear."

"Is that a problem?" Leliana asked, puzzled by the sudden change in the witch's demeanor.

"I do not wish to discuss it. 'Tis enough to say that I may not eat cheese." Morrigan answered as she turned to hastily leave the kitchen. "I choose that dish, without the cheese." she said as she passed through the doorway and into the corridor, headed for her and The Warden's personal chambers.

"Without the cheese?" the chef asked in dismay, "that is what makes the entire dish!"

"I will talk to her." Leliana said, trying to sooth the agitated man.

Upon reaching her chambers, Morrigan began quickly searching through her belongings. Rushing from shelf to shelf until, at last, she found what she was looking for. She grabbed a small clear vial from the wooden shelf that hung on the wall. A wooden cork sealed a dark green herb inside.

Gripping the cork in her teeth, the witch unstopped the bottle with a quick tug and spat the cork out on the floor in her haste. Her slender fingers reached into the bottle and snatched the herb from within and quickly tossing it into a mortar. With her other hand, Morrigan picked the pestle from the table and began grinding the herb into a pulp. She snatched another small vial from the shelf, this one containing a yellowish powder, and carefully pulled the cork. With a small tilt of the bottle, she added a few sprinkles of the powder before replacing the cork and setting the vial back in its spot. After adding a bit of water, the witch continued to grind the mixture until it was finally to her liking.

Morrigan poured the contents from the mortar into a cup, and with a fierce grimace, tipped the cup and hastily guzzled the liquid contained within. She held the back of her hand over her mouth, trying desperately to keep the disgusting concoction down. Finally, after a few uncertain moments, the witch was able to exhale. The medicine was absolutely terrible, but it was still far better than the alternative.

Until very recently, Morrigan had never heard of cheese, or dairy products of any kind for that matter. "Do you recall seeing many cattle in the wilds.", she had said to The Warden when he first teased her about it. And cheese, being the funny thing that it is, has a way of letting a person know when they don't have the stomach for it. Literally. The witch found her insides would react violently whenever she had even a small amount of dairy. Apparently, dairy was something that one either consumed their entire life or not at all.

She stood in front of the tall mirror, examining her rumbling belly. Painful shards wracked her guts, making her wince. With luck, the medicine would soon be calming the storm that was brewing in her stomach. Until then, she would have to ride out wave upon wave of searing pain.

Behind Morrigan, there was the loud sound of The Warden making his entrance to their quarters. She could hear his footsteps getting ever closer to her and she braced herself for the inevitable. And, just as she predicted, she soon felt him press against her back, his arms reaching around her and squeezing her closer to him.

"That is unwise." she cautioned.

"Why?" he asked, continuing his embrace while placing a soft kiss on the back of her neck, "Don't I at least get a kiss?"

His answer came in the form of a low rumbling noise that emanated from between them. The raspberry sound lasted several seconds and varied in pitch from low to high before weakly dying out.

"Oh..." he said, stunned, "that wasn't quite the kiss I had in mind."

"I _tried_ to warn you!" Morrigan exclaimed through her embarrassed giggling, her cheeks turning bright red.

"And next time, I'll listen."

"Do not tease! There was cheese in one of the dishes I sampled." the witch replied, attempting to defend herself.

"You can't have cheese. You know what it does to you." he said, stating the obvious.

"Twas not on purpose. I was unaware the dish contained it."

"I guess that's something I should mention to the chef." The Warden admitted.

"That would be best, I think." Morrigan agreed. "In the meantime I am off to fetch Seth from the nanny."

"Do you feel up to it? I can go get him if you want."

"Thank you, my sweet. That shall not be necessary. The medicine I took is taking effect and I feel much better."

"Alright, If you say so."

The Teyrn of Highever, Fergus Cousland, had sent word to his brother to meet with him in the large study in the east wing of the castle. He made sure that the messenger told The Warden that the matter was of some urgency. And when he arrived, The Warden found his brother sitting in a large leather chair near the fire.

"King Alistair will be here in the morning from Denerim." Fergus said noticing his brother's approach.

"He's early. The wedding isn't for more than a week yet." The Warden replied.

"I'm afraid that's not why he'll be here." the teyrn said, looking up at The Warden, "apparently he brings some bad news concerning a friend."

"Bad news about a friend? What does that mean?" The Warden asked, both confused and curious.

"I don't know. That's all the messenger said. You can ask the king when he gets here." Fergus said as his eyes shifted to the fire, "In the meantime I've got not only a wedding to host but royal accommodations to plan for."

"I really appreciate you letting us use the castle to host the wedding."

"You're still a Cousland, Grey Warden or not." Fergus returned, "Where else would you get married? Now go be with that woman of yours and give my nephew a hug from his uncle."

"Thanks, Fergus." The Warden said with a wave as he exited the study.

Failing to find Morrigan in their chambers, The Warden checked where he figured she was next most likely to be, the castle library. And, not surprisingly, the witch was there, sitting at one of the large wooden tables near the center of the hall pouring over large volumes while Seth meandered between his mother and Leo, the large mabari warhound who was laying on the floor.

The Warden paused to watch his son as Seth's toddler-steps took the child shakily from one place to the next on an endless path of discovery. The child was over a year old now and turning into quite a handful for his parents. Everything Seth touched was something to be explored, and then discarded, while he moved on to the next object that drew his fascination.

"Puppy!" the child would yell, attempting to get the mabari's attention. "Puppy! Book!" he shouted, gleefully holding out his discovery for Leo to see. The dog, after giving a brief sniff, rest his head back on the floor.

"Mom'er!" the child said as he patted the witch's leg, "Mom'er! Book!"

Seth referrence to Morrigan as "Mom'er" was not something the witch especially cared for. She had hoped he would call her "mother", but he was still very much in the early stages of speech and mom'er was the result of his efforts. The Warden considered in quite endearing. Although, he knew better than to tease the witch about it.

"Yes, Seth, dear. 'Tis a book." the witch said, taking a painfully long time in the child's eyes to acknowledge.

"What are you doing?" The Warden finally asked, fully entering the room.

With a gleeful squeal, the toddler ran to his father, wrapping his tiny arms around The Warden's leg in the largest hug the child could muster. The Warden reached down and scooped Seth up into his arms, saying, "There's my big man." as he did.

"Book!" Seth exclaimed with excitement as he pointed to the various books he had strewn about the floor.

"What are you reading?" The Warden asked again as he attempted to look over Morrigan's shoulder to get a better look.

"'Tis a listing of birth records." She replied, "Herein lies the names of all those born in Highever Teyrnir."

"Ah..." he uttered, realizing. "You're looking up your family again."

"Yes." she confirmed, her nose still buried in the book.

"Why don't you just go meet them. I know the tavern that Wynne spoke of in her letter."

"Do not be absurd. I am sure they have little desire to make my acquaintance after all these years, and still less to offer me for my effort."

"Tell yourself whatever you want. I think your afraid to meet them."

Her eyes shot up at him, casting a glare that cut straight into his soul. A glare that said _You had best choose your next words very carefully, lest the sight of your own blood pleases you_. After a moment her fierce stare melted and the witch let her true face show through. "Of course I would be terrified to meet them. These are people whom I have never met yet are a part of who I am. I bare no shame for my actions, but how approving of me could they possibly be? No...I think 'tis best if we keep our distance from each other. Let them go on believing whatever lie it is they choose to."

"But they're your family." he said, trying to convince her.

"As you have stated, I already have a family." she returned.

"Don't they at least deserve to know that your alive? What if something like that happened to Seth..."

"Silence!" the witch huffed not liking where the conversation was going.

"Still my point is valid. You would do anything to know your son was safe."

Morrigan bowed her head with a sigh. "We shall see. I will think on it."

"That's all I'm asking."

Trumpeters outside, in the courtyard, heralded to arrival of the king the following morning. Twelve people covered in shiny metal armor rode their steeds through the castle gate. The king, joined by his newly promoted captain, Dyana, along with ten of the king's best cavalrymen all rode up to the main steps of the castle. Pulling back on the reigns and bringing his horse to a stop, Alistair, clad in his golden armor, dismounted his steed and greeted The Warden and Fergus with an outstretched hand.

"You're early arrival was unexpected, Your Majesty." Fergus said as he clasped the king's hand in greeting.

"I've got some bad news, I'm afraid." Alistair replied as he turned to face The Warden.

"What kind of bad news?" The Warden questioned seeing the look on his friend's face becoming saddened

"Wynne's sick, Dwemer." the king answered, "She's dying."

"Where did you hear this? Are you sure?" The Warden asked shocked.

"I was just at Circle Tower, to see if I could get her to come to the wedding. But she can't because she's sick. Whatever spirit was keeping her alive has decided her time is up." the king explained, having a hard time keeping his composure. "She doesn't have long and she asked to see you, Leliana, and Morrigan before she...you know...she.."

"I know, Alistair." The Warden said, trying to console his friend. "Of course we'll go to Circle Tower. We owe her at least as much."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

The trip from Highever to Lake Calenhad was not a long one. Less than a day to be sure. Still, considering the nature of the visit, and its location, Morrigan and The Warden thought it best to leave Seth in the care of his uncle while they were away. The Warden figured the trip to be a dreary ride, not a place fit for a toddler. While Morrigan was more concerned with taking her child near Circle Tower. The very idea of it nearly sent her into a panic. One day Seth would reveal his magical talents and would be expected to assume his place alongside the other apprentices at the tower. Unless, of course, Morrigan was able to derail those plans. Which she fully intended to do. Until that time, however, the witch thought it best to keep her son's contact with the Circle of Magi to a minimum.

So, the pair left their son behind, while the child screamed and cried large, dramatic tears. The Warden and his witch exchanged glances with each other that said _we are the worst parents ever_, as the cries of the child tugged heavily on their hearts. Fergus did his best to comfort the tot, but to no avail as Seth continued his tantrum until after his parents had disappeared from view. As soon as he noticed they were gone, Seth immediately stopped his fussing and ran up to his uncle. Sniffling a few times, he yelled "Puppy!" as he tugged on Fergus' pant leg.

"You little scoundrel." the teyrn chuckled, "Alright, you want to see the kennels?"

Seth clapped and hopped, "Puppy!" he shouted again.

The sun was high in the sky and a warm breeze blew as the group readied to depart Highever. If the weather held up the entire way, they could reach Circle Tower by nightfall. They were in a hurry and needed to make the journey as quickly as possible, So, in the courtyard, Fifteen bridled horses awaited the king and his company, a steed for each of them.

"I have no need of a horse." Morrigan stated, waving off the servant trying to hand her some reigns.

Lifting the visor from her helm, Dyana looked at the witch and asked, "Do you plan on walking the whole way? In case you haven't noticed, we're kind of in a hurry, here."

"Temperamental _and_ shortsighted." the witch replied with a small grin, looking up at the king , "My, Alistair, you have chosen well."

"That's enough, captain." Alistair ordered. "You'll quickly find that Morrigan is a...unique...sort of woman. Best stay out of her way."

There was a bright flash of light as Morrigan was replaced by a tiny sparrow that fluttered from the ground and perched atop The Warden's shoulder, chirping loudly at the king.

With a loud, "Hmmmph!" Captain Dyana lowered her visor once again.

And, indeed, the weather did hold and the party found themselves beneath the tall stone spires of Circle Tower just as the sun began to set against the horizon. The mages they encountered were somber and silent, as they crossed the causeway heading towards the tower. The whole area seemed hushed and quiet and a melancholy feeling hung in the air like a thick fog. The closer they got to the tower, the stronger the feeling became.

"Dyana, you and the rest of the men will wait here. I'll try not to be long." Alistair said to his captain as they neared the main door.

"I don't think that's a wise idea, Your Majesty." she pleaded, leaning close to his ear and whispering, "You are in the company of a known maleficarum."

"Morrigan?" Alistair responded with a confused look. "There's nothing for you to be concerned about. Don't worry about Morrigan. You have your orders, captain."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Dyana said with a slight bow.

Alistair, The Warden, Morrigan, and Leliana all approached the main door to the tower. It seemed as if every eye present was fixed on them as they walked up the stone pathway and stood before the entrance.

"We've come to see Enchanter Wynne." Alistair said to the templar guarding the entrance.

"Of course, Your Majesty." The templar replied as he swung the door open for the king and his companions.

The party passed through the archway and into the tower and found their way to the second floor, where the senior mages chambers were. After making the long circle around from the stairs to the door to Wynne's quarters, the group was met by a young mage standing beside the door. The Warden recognized her as Nirfil. The young mage had apparently gone through her Harrowing since she no longer wore the robes of an apprentice.

"Nirfil, It's good to see you, again." The Warden said to the mage.

The girl became flushed and giggled, saying, "I'm flattered that you remember me, Warden."

"Indeed." Morrigan injected, her hands finding their familiar place on her hips.

"I wish the circumstances were different. But its good to see you, too." Nirfil said, turning to the witch, "And you must be Morrigan. He's told me all about you."

"He has, has he?" the witch inquired, her stare getting ever stronger.

"Oh, yes. All I ever heard was Morrigan this and Morrigan that. He never stopped going on about how perfect you are."

"And if he knows what is good for him, 'twill be the only thing he says about me." the witch quipped focusing her glare on The Warden.

"Why do you stare?" she asked him.

"It's nothing." he answered as if coming out of some sort of daze.

"Please, I've kept you long enough. Enchanter Wynne is expecting you." Nirfil said, opening the door and ushering the group inside.

The old mage, Wynne looked out at the world through tired eyes. She lay in her bed, as she had since she collapsed in the middle of a lecture to some of the apprentices almost a week ago. She knew in her heart that she would never again leave the comfort of her bed. Not that the old mage minded, she wasn't afraid of dying and she held no regrets from her life. She had always felt she experienced far more joy in life than was her fair share. But at long last, her job was finished and she could finally look forward to the rest that she had earned.

And while she had never had any children, there were three young people who were very special to her. They meant as much to her as if they were her own offspring. The three had all lost their parents and had adopted her as their mother-figure. Wynne didn't mind. It gave her a chance to pass on some of her wisdom when they sought her guidance, and mostly they listened.

The main exception being Dwemer. The old mage had confronted him on his foolishness in coupling with the apostate, Morrigan. No matter what logic or reason she offered him, he failed to heed her advice and continued their unholy union. But after a time it became clear that their romance was no casual fling. Even the witch was unable to conceal that her feelings were genuine. Wynne recanted her objections to The Warden, noting that even amidst the darkness and death of the Blight, love could still bloom.

"Wynne..." a voice said to her, bringing the old mage's focus back to the here and now.

"Dwemer!" she exclaimed joyfully upon seeing The Warden, reaching her arms out to him and embraced him, patting her hands against his back.

"Alistair, Leliana, it's so good to see both of you." the mage said, as each bent to hug her in turn.

"Morrigan..." Wynne said flatly, acknowledging the witch who stood at the back of the room, her arms folded and leaning against the stone wall.

"Alistair said you wanted to see us. What about?" The Warden asked as he sat next to the mage as she lay in her bed.

"Why, to tell you goodbye, of course." Wynne answered as she placed her hand on his.

"Don't say that, Wynne..." Alistair said, on the verge of tears, "You're going to be fine. You'll be up and walking around again in no time."

"No, Alistair. I won't be. Not this time, I'm afraid." the old mage replied, reaching her hand out to the king, who walked over and grasped it, "That's why I've asked you all here. To tell you not to let this sadden you. You have to let go, Alistair. Don't let my passing bring you sorrow, instead think of it as well earned rest after a complete life." Wynne paused to look at all three before her in the eye, "My friends. My dear, dear friends who are as cherished to me as any family, You have brought so much happiness to my life and shown me things I never dreamed possible. Cherish your time here and live well. Take care of each other."

"Leliana..." Wynne said to the bard, who had turned her head away to conceal her tears, "You were such a frightened girl when we first met. Always afraid your past life would find you. But look at you now. So strong and brave. You learned how to face those fears and overcame the very things that haunted you."

Morrigan closely observed from her place against the wall. On the outside she feigned disinterest, inside she was quite moved and felt sorrow for the three gathered around the old mage's bed. The Warden, still possessing the internal beacon that connected him to his witch, was aware of Morrigan's true feelings and looked at her with a smile. Morrigan's lips instantly pursed and her eyebrows scrunched downward in a glare that said _do not mock me_!

"Alistair..." the elder mage continued, facing the king as she spoke, "Dear, Alistair. It is you that I am most afraid to leave behind. You, more than the others, have grown before my eyes. Your childlike innocence was always refreshing to these old ears. You've come so far in such a short time. I have no doubt you will truly be a great king. You're already well on your way." she said and she patted his hand. Alistiar, unable to contain his grief any longer, slowly slipped away to another corner of the room in order to regain his composure.

"And you know I could never leave you out, Dwemer. The man I am most proud of." Wynne began, "It is your destiny alone to shoulder the weight and the burdens of this world. It was a task you never asked for, nor were you prepared for, but you fulfilled your duties without complaint, going beyond what was expected of you time and again for the sake of others and asking no reward in return. You are the epitome of what it means to be a Grey Warden. And now your are blessed with the duties of parenthood. Bryce Cousland was a good man and raised his son well. And you, no doubt, will do the same."

The old enchanter, visibly growing weaker, held her arms out to all three of them, "I love you all so very much. Thank you for having been in my life."

"Shh. You need your rest." The Warden said.

"I shall be doing plenty of resting soon enough." The old mage replied, her voice getting ever weaker. "First, I must speak with Morrigan alone."

"You wish to speak with me?" the witch asked, shocked.

The Warden, Leliana, and Alistair all left the room, leaving the two mages alone together. And while Morrigan accepted the fact that her warden viewed the old mage as a mother-figure, it was a mother who didn't approve of her son's choice in women. Wynne and made it abundantly clear to the witch on numerous occasions that she disapproved of Morrigan and in the end she would only serve to corrupt The Warden. The old mage had even referred to the witch as "a completely evil and vile woman whose cunning makes her capable of anything." And above all, Morrigan certainly wasn't to be trusted, the old mage felt.

"There are things I need to tell you, Morrigan. Come, sit." Wynne said as she gestured to a chair beside the bed, which Morrigan sat in. "You and Dwemer will be married very soon. And I am happy for you both. I truly am. You are capable of great caring, Morrigan. I know because I've seen how much you care for him. His life is not meant to be an easy one. You will both face many obstacles and challenges. Stand by him. Especially when things are the worst, that's when he'll need you the most."

"I will stand by him." Morrigan said.

"We've certainly had our share of differences, that's for sure." Wynne recalled, chuckling a bit, "But I know you will make Dwemer happy, and in the end, that's all that really matters. All I ask is that you be as honest and true to him as he is to you. Make him a good wife, Morrigan."

"I shall." the witch muttered softly.

"Out there in the corridor is a good man. A man who will take care of you and make you happy. Promise me you'll make him a good wife." The old mage struggled to say.

The witch's eyes dropped and her gaze fell away from the elder mage, "I promise." she muttered.

"I've come to realize...you're a lot better person than I gave you credit for." Wynne said, starting to sound very weak. Her breathing starting to become labored. "It seems...that I ...am leaving him ...in...good hands."

Their eyes met briefly, but in that short time an understanding was gained between the two women. The witch could see the genuine concern Wynne had over The Warden's well-being, and the old mage knew at last where Morrigan's heart truly lie. A contented smile grew on Wynne's face as her weary eyes began to close.

"Now...now I must rest. Close my eyes and leave...this...world...behind..." were that last words Morrigan heard the old mage say as the breath of life left her and she calmly closed her eyes. Her face was one of peace and contentment.

"Go to your Maker, old woman. May you be at peace." Morrigan said, bending over to plant a small kiss on the old mage's forehead.

The witch slowly rose from the chair and turned towards the door. She cast her gaze at Wynne one final time before grabbing the small metal ring, opening the door, and leaving the room. Out in the corridor The Warden, Alistair and Leliana all comforted each other. Alistair was in particular, having a hard time with things. When the trio spotted Morrigan they all fell silent, their stares cutting right through her.

"She has passed." the witch informed, the news causing Alistair to break into a sob. Neither were the eyes of Leliana nor The Warden dry.

Morrigan wrapped her arms around The Warden, "I am sorry for your loss, my love."

"She will be greatly missed." Leliana said as she consoled Alistair with a hug.

* * *

As per Wynne's wishes, a large funeral pyre was built on the tower grounds. Her body was laid across the pyre, adorned in her Senior Enchanter's Robe and her hands folded around her long staff. The inhabitants of the tower, mage and templar alike, gathered and payed their respects to Wynne in a long procession. And when all had said their goodbyes, Alistair was asked to say a few words.

The king was barely able to contain himself as he stood before the gathering. "Wynne was one of the most special people I ever knew. I relied on her quiet strength more times than I care to count." he said, choking up from time to time, "She was much more than just a friend. She was the voice of my conscience when I didn't want to hear it, but needed to. She was my courage when I didn't think I could succeed. She'll be remembered as a Hero of Ferelden for her part in saving Circle Tower and the Blight. But she was my hero as well, and I'll miss her terribly."

As the king stepped away from the large pyre, several apprentices stuck their torches into the mass of wood, setting it ablaze. The fire quickly grew until it consumed the entire pyre in a blistering inferno. The Warden, Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan all watched the fire as it burned, lighting up the tower against the night. It raged for hours, as the friends recounted many tales of their time with the old mage, sharing laughter and tears until the first rays of dawn began to creep across the land and there was nothing left but smoldering embers. The Warden and his party gathered themselves and started the journey back towards Highever with heavy hearts.

The return trip was taken at a much more leisurely pace, and mostly in silence. As the horses slowly plodded along, their riders drooped in the saddle. The sky was clear and the weather was warm and beautiful, but most in the party failed to notice as they continued to grieve for the friend they had lost. The Warden tried his best to burn the image of the old mage into his memory forever. Her gentle smile and manner would forever be a part of him. Fortunately, Morrigan always had a way of taking his mind of his troubles.

"Why were you staring at that girl, Nirfil? You've taken a fancy to her, have you?" Morrigan said from behind The Warden as they shared a steed while she was in human form.

"Not at all." He answered, "There was just something odd about her."

"Odd? How so?"

"You'll think it's stupid."

"Would you prefer I think something else?" she said with an ominous tone.

"No." he moaned with a sigh, "It's just that Nirfil seemed to resemble you quite a lot. The shape of her eyes, her nose, even her mannerism are similar. It was strange."

"What joy! You have at last found my long lost sister!" Morrigan shouted in mock glee, "How strange that you should see members of my family in everyone you come across."

"I knew you'd think it was stupid." he grumbled.

"I apologize, my sweet." she said, giggling. "I do not think you stupid, merely naif, and guilty of no more than wishful thinking."

"So I take it you've been thinking about what we talked about, at least."

"And we are back to that again." Morrigan huffed, "Ride closer to Alistair and I shall show you what awaits me."

Doing as requested, The Warden spurred his horse and quickly caught up with the king who was riding next to Dyana near the front of the group. "Alistair, I would ask a question of you." the witch said when they had pulled alongside the king.

"What about?" The king asked as Dyana cast a watchful glare.

"It concerns your sister."

"Goldanna?" Alistairs surprised look indicating this was not a topic he expected to discuss, least of all with Morrigan. "What is it you wanted to know? I hardly even know her, really. The only time I've spoken to her is when she asked how much money me being king would get her. I honor my promise and see that she's looked after, but we don't speak."

"Precisely my point. Had you been aware that she was nothing more than a parasite, would you have done things differently? Do you not regret your decision to seek her out?"

"I thought about that, myself, for a while. And I realized that even though Goldanna wasn't exactly what I had pictured her to be, at least I found her. I didn't have to wonder about it anymore. So, to answer your question, no. I don't regret finding her one bit."

"I see..." Morrigan said, seeming to not get the answer she expected from the king.

"Not knowing is far worse than knowing could ever be, no matter how bad the truth really is." Alistair reiterated.

Once the group arrived back at Castle Cousland, they made an agreement to follow Wynne's wishes and not let her passing be a time of mourning. Instead they would remember her as the strong and confident woman they grew to love. The wedding would continue as planned as all agreed Wynne would have expected nothing less.

The party dismounted their steeds and made their way to the castle's large main door, Morrigan passing in front Dyana in the process. The captain continued to show her disdain for the witch by casting a steely glare at her from behind. Alistair, seeing this, grabbed his captain's arm and ushered her to the side to have a word in private whether she liked it or not.

"Alright, out with it." he said sternly to her.

Dyana's face scrunched up in confusion, "Your Majesty?" she asked.

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about." he snapped back. "You've done nothing but make remarks about Morrigan and give her those nasty looks. You haven't even tried to hide the fact of how much you dislike her. What I want to know is why? What could Morrigan have possibly done that made you hate her so much?"

"Alright, I'll admit it. I hate her." the captain answered shamelessly, "She is a _maleficar_! What was the Grand Cleric thinking? The Maker decrees she should have been destroyed like the monster she is, not given freedom to defile Ferelden as she sees fit. Who is Alyessa to question that? The Warden should be ashamed of himself."

"That _maleficar_ happens to be a friend of mine, and she's not nearly as bad as she seems. If not for her help we would have never stopped the blight. So I expect you to keep whatever personal feelings you have to yourself and stop giving Morrigan so much grief. Is that clear, Captain?"

"Perfectly clear, Your Majesty."

* * *

Despite how he felt about Wynne, The Warden's spirits quickly picked up once he arrived in the main hall to greet Fergus. He found a close friend who he had not seen in some time there waiting on him. It was Silas, the youngest member of the Grey Wardens. He and The Warden had become close after Silas, himself the son of a bann, lost both his parents in an attack by rogue blood mages who were fleeing the templars and sought asylum within his father's manor. All members of his family were slain. Only the templars' prudent timing saved Silas from the same fate.

Being only seventeen at the time, and with no place else to go, he ventured north to Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep to become a member of the illustrious Grey Wardens. While The Warden initially denied the boy's request to partake in the joining, he allowed Silas to remain at the compound, eventually becoming a mentor to the troubled lad.

Normally, potential initiates are much older than Silas was, usually in their late twenties or early thirties. With the taint's slow death over thirty years, there was little point in recruiting young initiates only to have them die while they were still young wardens. As Duncan had once said, "It is best to allow them to grow up a bit first."

But Silas displayed remarkable prowess with a blade, very nearly rivaling The Warden's own skill. And as the son of a lord, even at such a young age, he had already led his father's troops into battle on repeated occasions against bandits, rogue mages, and even the odd darkspawn. He quickly proved to be a capable commander and earned the respect of his men. But the youth could be cocky and arrogant at times. He had a quick temper which would often get the best of him. He had caused trouble on more than a few occasions and The Warden would have to sit him down and have a long talk about what was troubling him.

It was only after Silas risked his own life saving a young girl from two drunken mercenaries that The Warden finally agreed to allow Silas to partake in the joining. His heart was beating heavily in his chest as he watched the boy drink from the goblet. Silas writhed in agony for many long seconds, long enough that The Warden considered drawing his blade and ending the lad's suffering. Then the boy stopped moving altogether, sending a chill down The Warden's spine. But after a few seconds, Silas opened his eyes, blinked a few times then looked up at The Warden saying "That was it? I thought you said it was going to be bad."

The Warden helped the youth to his feet and playfully ruffled his hair saying, "Alright, tough guy." and causing Silas to laugh.

That was the last official act The Warden had performed as head of the order. Not long afterward, he stepped down in order to assist Alistair in rebuilding Ferelden. He remembered the look on Silas' face as he left Vigil's Keep. And, although the boy had sworn he wasn't angry, The Warden could tell he was disappointed. Now, after more than a year, Silas stood in front of him in the main hall still wearing the drakescale armor he was given by The Warden.

"Silas! It's great to see you!" The Warden exclaimed as he reached out and took the boy's hand, grasping it.

"I've missed you, too." Silas returned, placing his hand on The Warden's shoulder and giving a good squeeze.

"Are you here for the wedding? You're a bit early..."

"Unfortunately, no. I have business in Highever and I figured I stop by and look up an old friend while I was here."

"That's a shame. Hopefully you'll finish your business in time to attend."

"We'll see."

The Warden looked up to see his witch entering the hall. Silas, turning to see who The Warden was looking at said, "Oh wow. That's her, huh?" when he noticed Morrigan.

The Warden nodded.

"_Nice_." Silas replied, nodding his approval.

"I'm so glad you approve." The Warden quipped with a smirk.

The witch approached The Warden, wrapped her arm around his back and lifted herself up to plant a quick kiss on his lips in greeting. "Seth, no doubt, would like to see his parents."

"Seth? You have a child?" The boy asked, amazed. "You sure don't waste any time do you?" he said, laughing.

"Morrigan, I'd like you to meet, Silas. Silas, this is Morrigan." The Warden said, introducing the pair.

"The lad of whom you spoke so highly?" questioned the witch.

"That would be him." The Warden confirmed.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, madame, but as I told Dwemer, I have business elsewhere." Silas said to the witch with a bow, "Dwemer, I'll see you again soon." he finished with a wave as he walked out of the hall.

"Madame? Since when am I a 'madame'?" Morrigan asked looking up at The Warden with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Don't let it get to you. He's still young and to him anyone over twenty five is ancient." he said, attempting to comfort her.

The witch glanced around to the other people in the room, saying loudly, "Then 'tis good for me that I have yet to attain such an age."

"Yeah, right." The Warden mumbled through his snickering, drawing a sharp elbow to the ribs, courtesy of the witch.

"I had intended on telling you that I decided to seek out my family, however, since you insist on being an ass I believe I shall drop the matter entirely." she snapped, her arms folded.

"Don't do that. Look...I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be mean."

"My looks shall fade soon enough and without those, what will I have?"

"You'll still have me."

"Still, I would prefer it if you would not announce to the entire world that I am an old woman."

"Don't be silly. You're not old. I don't know why you fuss about your age so much. You can't be any other age than what you are. And I have no doubt that even when the gray hair sets in I'll still find you to be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Gray hair?" The witch exclaimed in panic, "why would you even say such a thing?" she said as she ran over to a metal shield hanging from the wall and inspected her hair in the reflection.

"You don't have any. That's not what I meant." he groaned, exasperated, "You know what? Forget I said anything. How about we do that? I'm an idiot who never said anything."

The witch stopped, turned to face him with a large grin on her face, "You are simply adorable when you are flustered." she said, giggling.

He stopped for a minute, finally understanding that she had been playing him. "Ooh. That's cold." he said, returning her grin. "Alright, you got me back. We're even now."

Morrigan did indeed intend to seek out her family. Alistair had said that not knowing was the hard part, and the witch was inclined to agree. The temptation of knowing where she had come from pulled on her incessantly. She yearned to meet them, hoping that what both Leliana and The Warden had said was true, that families accepted its members as they were. The witch still found Ferelden to be strange and foreign to her much of the time and her actions could be viewed as out of place. That and she was sure there were no other apostates lurking in the family tree. What if they were devout members of the Chantry? Morrigan could think of many reasons why she shouldn't pursue the matter, but none of them were strong enough to keep her from seeking the answers she craved. So in the morning she would head into the village and visit the tavern said to be owned by members of her family. Maybe then she would be able to make peace with the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

Somewhere off the coast of Ferelden, on an isolated island in the Waking Sea, a dark plan unfolds. Long before there was ever a Ferelden, the island and the temple on it had existed far from the curious view of men. The original builders of the temple remain unknown to its present occupants, the Order of Bohlen, but they were master craftsmen, whoever they might have been. Tall marble columns, whose age was readily visible from the many chips and cracks, shot upwards to support the ceiling which was covered in a detailed fresco depicting an ancient hero slaying a hideous beast with his sword. The cracked tiles covering the ground allowed sprouts of weeds to grow through where a floor had once been. One of the order's members foot stumbled upon such a crack and nearly fell, as he raced down the temple walkway on his way to deliver some most urgent news.

Trembling hands reached out from a blood-red robe to grasp the large handles on the door into the heart of the temple and pull them open. Hastily, the figure ducked inside, closing the door behind him. Quick steps echoed throughout the interior of the large main foyer as the man scurried across the well-tiled floor and turned down one of the corridors to the side. Upon reaching another large door, the hooded figure stopped before it, raised his still trembling hand, and rapidly knocked.

"Who goes there?" A voice demanded from the other side of the door.

Pulling back his hood to reveal a middle-aged man with a gray-streaked beard, the man said "It's Eldrich, your Grace. I bring urgent word from Ferelden."

"By all means, then. Enter." a soothing voice replied.

Eldrich slowly opened the door, peaking his head around it as he did so.

"No need to be timid. I won't bite."

The door was swung wide to reveal an older man sitting in an ornately carved golden chair with a red cushion. He was a thin and spindly man who was completely bald. He was dressed in an lavish white robe that had intricate designs sewn in gold thread. Before him was a vanity, also painted in pure gold and encrusted with large gems, into which he stared. "Tell me, what news do you have?"

"My Lord, Denolian, our man in Ferelden sends word of his success. He says all has been arranged just as you asked."

"That's excellent news, Eldrich." Denolian said, his speech like some soft lullaby as he turned from the mirror to face the shaking man. "Do you know what this means?"

"Uhm...uh..." the man sputtered, unsure of what his answer should be.

"It means that we can now move forward with our plans to put Ferelden back on the right path. The path the Maker has chosen. And I will be the instrument the Maker uses to clear that path and make ready for his return. The blood of the sinners an blasphemers shall serve to cleanse the land. Glory to the Maker!"

"Glory to the Maker!" Eldrich repeated dutifully.

* * *

The Warden's eyes slowly opened, his head still in a groggy fog from a long night of slumber. As his sight cleared and the world around him came into focus, he saw Morrigan to his right, sitting on a chair next to the bed.

"Good morning, my sweet." she said in a chipper voice as her hand reached out and slowly pulled the blanket that covered The Warden down to his waist, exposing his naked chest. The witch let her fingers trail along his body, tracing the outlines of the muscles beneath his skin with her fingertips.

"Good morning to you, too." he returned while her hand slid beneath the blanket, finding something much more sensitive to her touch, which quickly responded to the attention. The Warden groaned his approval.

He was no fool. Morrigan was after something, he was sure of it. But this was her way of properly preparing him to be asked. The funny thing about it, The Warden thought, was that he would most likely say yes to pretty much anything she asked him anyway. But the girl had a gift and he wasn't about to turn those magical hands away.

After she had finished putting him in the best possible of moods, as expected, she trained her large golden eyes on him, trying to make them as big and inviting as she could, and said "I need to ask something of you." in a soft, sultry voice.

Now came the tricky part. The Warden very much enjoyed this arrangement and wanted to see it continue for as long as he could. But if he handled the situation wrong, everything would blow up in his face and crush any further chance of Morrigan's repeated sexual bribes. "Oh, what's that?" he asked in a cool tone.

"You recall that I am going to the tavern today, no doubt." she said, moving from her spot in the chair to slide next to him in the bed. "I wish for you to accompany me."

If he caved too quickly, the witch might sense too easy of a success and refrain from buttering him up in the future. On the other hand, if he was too callous towards her...well it was Morrigan after all, and the result of that would not be pretty. The Warden needed to use his wits, finding just what to say. "Are you sure that's best?" he asked, wrapping his arms around and sliding his hands behind his head.

"Your support would be appreciated. Are your family not the lords of these lands? Any trouble these people might deign to give me would soon evaporate upon seeing you." The witch said while she traced small circles on his chest with her finger.

"Is that the only reason?" he inquired, fearing he may be pushing his luck a bit. But he could also achieve a decisive blow if strategy proved effective.

"'Tis not my _sole_ reason." she admitted, sounding annoyed he would press the obvious, "If I am to do this, I shall not be able to do so alone. Conversing with strangers over sensitive matters is not my...strength. I would ask that you join me." She shifted position so that her chin rested on his chest so her gaze could meet his, her voice softening. "Dwemer, please go with me." she whispered.

"Of course, I'll go."

"Thank you, my love." she said, embracing him, giving a big squeeze, and a quick kiss before hopping up. "We leave as soon as you are dressed."

The Warden grinned to himself when her back faced him, smiling at his own success.

While Highever was fairly large, it was still substantially smaller than Denerim. The market district was also somewhat lacking when compared with Denerim, but there were still plenty of shops and markets were one could spend their hard earned coin. However, there were only three pubs in the entire town making Morrigan's task of locating the correct one quite simple.

The village was still small enough that everyone knew everyone else. Morrigan found comfort in this small fact as her Warden had known many of these people his entire life and his presence would give her some semblance of similarity among strangers. He could act as a buffer for her if she so needed.

And sure enough, it wasn't long before they found themselves in front of the particular tavern that the witch sought. She stared at the wooden sign posted over the door that read "The Bent Blade Tavern – Food, Wine, and Spirits."

"This is the best place to get venison stew in Highever" The Warden said while shaking his finger at the sign. "I've been here more than a few times."

With large butterflies tumbling about in her stomach, Morrigan swung the door open, swallowed hard, and went inside. The Warden followed his witch into the tavern, finding several patrons huddled in dark corner booths, guzzling down large tankards of mead and ale. Several others sat at the long wooden bar that stretched along the far wall of the tavern, behind which was a large, burly older man who served the customers. To the left was the door into the kitchen, were the sounds of clanging pots and pans could be heard ringing out as the cooks toiled, hastily preparing dishes for the hungry customers. Morrigan caught a glimpse of a girl with long brown hair that hung braided behind her. She was wearing a white apron that was covered in many greasy stains. She looked stressed and tired as she issued commands to the kitchen's other occupants. The witch tried to take in as much about the woman as she could while she wondered if she may be staring at some possible relative.

Morrigan and The Warden strolled up to the bar, The Warden extending his hand over it to clasp the hand of the large man behind it, saying, "Jenerik! It's been too long." as he did.

"My lord, Dwemer. It's been some time. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Jenerik replied with a big, hearty smile.

"I have someone here who'd like to talk to you." The Warden said as he gestured towards the witch.

"This would be the lovely bride-to-be that all of Highever is buzzing about?" Jenerik asked in his gruff voice. "I feel honored to make your acquaintance. How can ol' Jenerik help you?"

"Who owns this establishment?" the witch asked.

"Yours truly." Jenerik answered, pointing his thumbs at himself and grinning.

"Has it always been in your family?"

"No, not always. I'm the first member of my family to own a business of any kind. Most of my family are sailors, you see. But me? I don't have the legs for it. Always felt better with my feet on dry land."

"How long have you been the owner?"

"Some thirty years or so now, I reckon. Give or take. Ever since I bought it. Why do you ask?"

"I am looking for someone. Someone very important." was all the witch would offer. "Listen carefully to my next question, for while it may seem odd, 'tis most important."

"Alright..." Jenerik said, leaning in with his ear to better hear the witch.

"Have you ever lost any children? Had one simply vanish? An infant perhaps? A girl?"

"Can't say as I have. Only offspring I got is Hayleen, and I can't seem to get rid of her. Even now she's in the kitchen, probably screamin' her fool head off at the help." Jenerik answered, then turned to The Warden and asked, "What's that brother of yours doing? He's still single, isn't he?"

"I do not understand." Morrigan muttered, confusion on her face, "This _has_ to be the place."

"You know what? Come to think of it I remember something about the previous owners." Jenerik said as he snapped his fingers.

"Previous owners?" The Warden asked, "I don't remember anyone else but you ever owning this place."

"You would have been too young to remember, my lord. You couldn't have been more than two or three years old at most." the large man explained as he rubbed his bearded chin. "See, I worked for the previous owners for several years before I bought the place. They were a nice young couple. This tavern was built by the man after coming into some coin, his father having left it to him."

Jenerik paused for a moment, deep in thought. These were things he hadn't thought about in many years and the memories were not as vivid as they once had been. "I remember that they had a baby. A little girl. Cute as a button with her black hair and blue eyes. I'll never forget those eyes. One day, however, I got a bit of bad news when I came in to open the place up for the day. It seems that the night before, the young couple was viciously attacked by a savage beast. Neither survived. I'm told the scene was quite horrific. Funny thing is, they never found the girl. I think the beast made off with the poor babe for a later meal. Soon afterward I was given the opportunity to buy the place, so I did. And I've been running it ever since." he finished while he continued to wipe down the counter with a rag.

"This man and woman, do you recall their names?" Morrigan asked Jenerik, trying to probe the man for anything he might know.

"Let me think...his name was...was...Elisha. That's it. Elisha Hamric. The woman's name was Corine."

"You mentioned they had family. Were you aware of any they might have had?"

"No...not that I remem...Oh wait!" Jenerik said, snapping his fingers again. "She once told me she had a younger sister that lived in...in...damn! I can't seem to remember off hand. I'm sorry. That's all I remember."

"Are you quite sure there is nothing more about them you can tell me?"

"No, not that I can think of. Truth is I never figured I'd ever be thinking about those poor people again. And with you askin' all these questions about 'em...makes me wonder a bit. Why would you be so interested in people who've been dead more than thirty years? Unless...wait a minute...you're about the right age, I guess...I thought maybe a bit too young at first, with the lighting and all...but...you're _her_ aren't you? Got away from the beast after all?"

"You've been most helpful." Morrigan said as she turned to leave without answering, a clear look of disappointment on her face. The Warden followed after her with his mind quickly trying to come up with the right words to say.

Morrigan's hands reached out the grab the door and just as The Warden was about to say the best words he could think to say, a voice boomed from the back of the tavern. It was Jenerik's. "Redcliffe! She said her sister lived in Redcliffe Village!" he hollered out.

"Thanks, Jenerik." The Warden said with a wave as he and the witch exited.

"Glad to be of service, my lord."

Once outside in the street, Morrigan broke into a brisk walk on her way back to the castle. She couldn't put the tavern far enough behind her in a quick enough fashion. In an aggravated huff, she raised her arms skyward as a soft light began to envelope her.

"Wait." The Warden said, grabbing her and interrupting the change. "Don't fly off somewhere. Let's talk about this."

She cast a glare back at him over her shoulder "Why is it that we must always talk? My desire is to be alone, not be smothered by your constant doting."

"So, instead, you fly off making me spend most of the day looking for you. We've played that game before, I don't like it. You're better at hiding than I am at looking. Besides, while I know this wasn't what you expected..."

"What I expected? They are both dead!" the witch exclaimed, interrupting him, "I was a fool to have ever gotten my hopes up. I should have _expected_ Flemeth to do as much."

"It wasn't a complete loss. We did find out a good bit about your family."

"Yes, it would seem I am a Hamric, apparently. But according to the records I read, no such family hails from Highever."

"Well, they have to be out there somewhere. And best of all, we know were to start looking."

"Redcliffe..."

"Redcliffe." The Warden repeated. "I know this is a great deal to handle right now. If you need to go clear your head, I understand. Just try not to be too long."

"Lest I desire to have the entire castle guard hunting for me?"

"Something like that."

"As you wish." she said with a sigh as she once again positioned herself for transformation.

Morrigan paused momentarily, saying, "Dwemer..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you for...understanding."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for."

* * *

In a dank, dark basement located beneath a run down hovel, somewhere in Highever, a small group of men are assembled. Their purpose: to set into motion plans for a shift in power in Ferelden. All of the men wore the garbs of a blood mage, save one. The non-mage stood in back, apart from the rest, observing. He concealed himself beneath a black hooded robe, his face hidden from view.

Dark chants filled the room. A large rune had been traced on the floor, lit by candles placed in a circle around it. Smoldering pots of incense filled the room with a hazy fog and strong fragrances. One of the mages reached inside his robe and withdrew a blood-red gem. He held it out before him in his palms, all the while chanting archaic words from a long-dead language.

Placing the gem in the middle of the rune, the blood mage stepped back, still chanting. A side door swung open and two large figures with blood-red robes dragged a young maiden, who was naked, bound, and gagged, into the room, her face showing confusion and terror.

"We who call for you ask that you accept this sacrifice!" the blood mage yelled. He then gestured the two large figures to bring the girl into the center of the rune, which they did, laying her on her back next to the gem.

The girl, who had been frantically trying to roll off her back, suddenly stopped. She began to raise into the air slowly while the mages continued their chants, growing ever louder. The girl paused after floating several feet off the floor, and began screaming loudly against her gag. She went silent when there was a loud "crack!" as the poor girl was folded backwards, her feet slapping against the back of her head. Blood began to pour from her body and splatter against the stone floor as she hung lifeless in the air. Before long, several large puddles began to form. When no more blood was left in the girl, she was cast aside and fell to the floor just beyond the rune.

Then, as the dark man observed, the blood began to pool and come together into one large puddle which then flowed into the red gem, as if the gem were drinking it in. After all the blood had been drained off the floor, the sounds of cracking could be heard. The gem began to shatter, pieces flying through the air. When a large split cracked the gem down the middle, a purple vapor came spewing forth. As it flowed from the gem, the vapor started to come together, making the outlines of a female form. Soon it became evident to all, this was no ordinary female, it was a desire demon.

"You have been freed as promised." the dark man said as he approached the demon, which was trapped by the rune.

"Freed? I merely exchanged one prison for another. Release this rune!" the demon exclaimed.

"Not until I'm sure you're going to live up to your part of the bargain."

"What assurances do you need? We both serve the same master. He was the one who directed you to free me in the first place. Our goals are the same."

"Not good enough. Show me that your up to the task." the dark man demanded.

"Very well..." the demon said as it began to glow, its outlines changing form into someone else. And when the change was complete the form of Morrigan stood where there was once a demon.

"Is this more to your liking?" the demon-witch said.

"That'll do just fine." The dark figure replied, grinning somewhere beneath his black hood.

* * *

The air was cool and crisp against Morrigan's feathered face. Rarely did she venture to these heights, but she felt the added altitude would help her put things into perspective. And it had, as she looked upon the village of Highever from far above, its residents no more than tiny ants in the witch's view. From this high up, Morrigan was even able to see the tip of Circle Tower against the horizon to the southwest.

From her aerial vantage point, she was able to see the connections that those on the ground could not. She watched as a woman in the town bought bread from the baker, who in turn bought several bushels of wheat from a farmer, the farmer then used that money to pay his workers, one of which being the husband to the first woman he watched. The witch wondered, as the man gave the woman some coin with which to finish her errands, if the sovereign she first spent hadn't just come back to her. And if so, how many times had the woman paid for bread with the same money?

As the sun began to set against the horizon, the witch glided down from above, on her way back to the castle. Outside of the window to her and The Warden's chambers was a large willow tree that the witch flew to first, landing on one of the large branches. She was able to peer inside the window and spy on her warden, who was attending to Seth.

The Warden was on his hands and knees, chasing the young tot about the room while Seth giggled and squealed in delight. Seth would hide around one of the corners of the large table, while The Warden would slow to a crawl, almost like he was a tiger stalking his prey. Without warning, he would hop around the corner of the table, shouting, "Found you!" as the child laughed and ran away. The Warden jumped to his feet and scrambled after Seth, catching him about the waist from behind and hauling him into the air. The child's laughter filled the room as The Warden held his son in his arms and pressed his mouth against Seth's exposed belly, blowing raspberries into the boy's stomach.

As she watched them, Morrigan tried to picture the Warden how he might look in the future, imaging herself by his side. Never before had she tried to envision any real future for herself. Before meeting The Warden, she always figured she would continue to gain in power and strength for as long as she was able. But now, things were vastly different. Now she had a chance at a _real _future. She pondered what she would be like many years from now; The Warden's continual affect on her making her into a softer woman, capable of expressing her emotion without shame. For better or worse, Morrigan was unsure. She knew only that her answers lay far in the future. For soon, they would be man and wife.

She had asked him to be her husband as much as he had asked her to be his wife. Almost as if they were afraid the other would be scared off. And now that ceremony was days away, the thought causing a shiver to ruffle her tiny feathers. It was customary among the highborn in Ferelden to write a portion of their own vows. And while she was sure The Warden had long since finished writing his, she had yet to even start on hers. It wasn't for lack of effort, though. Several times Morrigan sat at the table with ink, paper, and pen attempting to define what she felt and what The Warden had come to mean to her. Each time she was unable to put those thoughts into words, becoming more frustrated with each try. Just once she wanted to be able to have the ability to talk from her heart, but her cynical nature left her unskilled as such things, she felt. Having seen all she cared to, The witch leapt from her perch and fluttered through the open window, reverting to form with a flash once inside.

"Mom'er!" Seth exclaimed upon seeing his mother.

"I was starting to worry." The Warden said as he set the tot down. Seth's scrambling feet immediately took him to Morrigan, who scooped the child up in her arms, resting him against her left hip.

"No doubt, you have the castle guard readying for a search." The witch returned.

"I wasn't _that_ worried...yet." He replied as he walked closer to her, but resisting the urge to touch. "How about you? How are you feeling?"

"'Tis such an odd question. I shall never get used to hearing it. It matters not how I feel."

"It matters to me."

"The truth is...I am unsure how I feel." Morrigan admitted as she began to lightly stroke his arm with her fingers. "'Tis all so strange to me. I never once thought to denounce Flemeth as my mother. True, we may not have been blood, but I was ignorant of that and she was the only mother I ever knew, such as she was."

"Flemeth was a monster. She treated you terribly." The Warden noted, "She was never a mother."

"To this day I am convinced that Flemeth did indeed have my best interests at heart, in her own fashion. In many ways she was the best mother I could have had. After all, had it not been for her, we would never have met and _you_ would be dead."

"Good point..."

"I've been thinking..." Morrigan continued, "We are to be wed in less than a week, after which I would like to go to Redcliffe."

"You want to honeymoon in Redcliffe?" he asked slightly shocked, "The last time we were there it was full of a bunch of dead people."

"Yes." she answered sternly, "I wish to travel to Redcliffe for our...honeymoon?" Morrigan's face crumpled in confusion, "That being what, exactly?"

"Never mind. I'll show you when we get there." he said with a sly grin. "We can go anywhere you want."

* * *

Barely three days remained until the big event that all of Ferelden was talking about. The Grey Warden was getting married, dashing the hopes of many young maidens throughout the country. His bride would be the apostate, Morrigan, the only free mage Ferelden had seen in centuries. She was an extremely beautiful woman who was also well known across the lands, by her own deeds as much as by her association with The Warden. And for the most part she was loved among the populace. Especially the mages, who admired Morrigan for her role in their expanded freedoms. But others saw her as a threat. A blight upon the land as dire as any darkspawn could muster.

There were those who felt the Chantry was becoming soft, that it had let them down. It was the fault of the Chantry itself that the Maker refused to return. They had not done all that was necessary to bring the Chant of Light to the world. Allowing a maleficarum to walk free in their midst was unthinkable. And above all, these people blamed the Chantry for the last blight, saying it was a sign from the Maker of his displeasure.

These same people were also finding that there were others who felt the same way. Others who would not allow the sacrilege any longer. They found a place to voice their concerns without fear of chantric reprisal. A place were they could gather and listen to the Maker's true message. The Order of Bohlen, whose priests and followers were spreading to all corners of Ferelden.

"Do you really need all this crap?" Alistair said upon marveling at the decorations in the main hall.

"I don't...no." The Warden answered his friend while they both waited for the bard, as instructed. "We could get married in a mud pit surrounded by pigs for all I care."

"Then why don't you? I mean, you have to admit, it is a tad much."

"Tell that to Morrigan. I know exactly why she wants it this way, but if I tell you she'll melt my face off." The Warden said, shrugging.

"Right...I suppose that would be bad. After all, I'm sure you'll need your face. But it would be a lot quieter around here. And I could use the peace."

"Gee, thanks."

While they waited, The Warden thought about the reason behind the lavishness of the wedding. Morrigan was particularly fond of fairy tales as a child, and many of those books contained royal weddings of the most extravagant kind. The witch never thought she would be involved with any man, let alone agree to marriage. But if she ever did, she had always hoped for the kind of weddings that were in the tales she read. And now that she had the chance, Morrigan wasn't going to let it pass her by. Fortunately for the witch, such weddings were not uncommon among Ferelden's elite. Fergus noted that on his wedding day, one thousand white doves were released into the air. Oriana, it seems, also desired a large wedding and decorated the main hall in a grand fashion as well.

"What are you two staring at? Is there something wrong with the ceiling?" a familiar voice rang out.

"Zevran!" The Warden exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing here?" The Warden reached out a hand to the elf in greeting, Alistair doing likewise. He looked much the same as he did when last The Warden saw him. Zevran was covered in black leather armor of exquisite quality, his long blonde hair streaked from the sun and braided in the back.

"I was told there was going to be a wedding so I thought I'd lend my charming presence." Zevran replied in his typical quasi-serious manner.

"It's not for three days yet. Do you have a place to stay?"

"Don't worry about me, my friend. I found a quaint inn located in the village. As long as you don't mind sharing the bed with rats the size of a mabari, it's quite pleasant, actually."

"I'll get you a room ready." The Warden said.

"That would be most appreciated."

"I see we have pests." Morrigan said as she entered the hall and saw the elf.

"And after all this time, your words still wound me." Zevran quipped, "It is a pity we never made love. Although, we still have a small amount of time left if you wish to..."

"Do not try that crap with me you insolent little troll." Morrigan barked, "Your, so-called, seductive charms shall only gain you much pain and suffering."

"And you are still as beautiful as ever when you're angry...and something else as well."

"What do you mean?" Morrigan asked.

"There's something different about you. I don't know..."

"If you value your meager existence then you shall say what you mean."

"Ah...there. I recognize it now. I didn't before, because I'd never seen it on you." the elf said.

"That being...?"

"You look happy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

The sun cast its warmth down on Highever once again for the start of another glorious day. With two days left until the grand ceremony, the entire castle and village were abuzz. Castle servants hustled to and fro making final preparations under the watchful eye of the bard. While down in the village, shops and houses had been decorated and congratulatory signs and well wishes had been hung everywhere.

Being a Cousland gave The Warden status and popularity by birth and any wedding he had was bound to be well attended already, as other lords and ladies would line up to pay their respects to him and his new bride, with the occasional foreign dignitary mixed in for good measure. But, and perhaps more importantly, he was also The Grey Warden, Ferelden's most beloved son. He was a hero to all the people of land, human, elf, and dwarf alike. And as such, throngs of people had arrived for the event. Many tens of thousands of ordinary folk pitched their tents in any open place they could find, each hoping to get just a glimpse of The Warden and his fair witch. Over the past few days, the grounds outside the castle had gone from a few white tents dotted here and there, to a continuous field, like one white sheet stretching all the way around the castle.

For the blessed day's two participants, however, the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in. Both had become little more than a bundle of nerves. Morrigan had become so agitated that she spent most of her time alone in her quarters, looking into the mirror on her vanity and saying, "Cooooozland. Cousland. Coooz...Greetings...my name is Morrigan Cooozland... Morrigan Coosland.." and grumbling to herself, trying her best to get a handle on having a new name.

"Have I gone completely mad? I am not doing this!" she would say to her reflection with conviction, only to recant seconds later, "Alright. I can do this. 'Tis nothing I cannot handle. 'Tis only...'tis only _for the_ _rest of my life_..." she said as she buried her face in her hands.

At the same time, The Warden could be found in the kitchen, essentially taking over the chef's duties and feeding the castle's inhabitants. For once the chef was happy for the help as it freed him to concentrate on the wedding meal, itself a monumental task. Each time someone would come to retrieve The Warden, his reply would be the same, "I'll be there in a few minutes." But of course, "a few minutes" never came and The Warden remained in the kitchen.

After waiting for hours to speak to The Warden and Morrigan, the bard became frustrated and went to the teyrn seeking his help. She found Fergus in his study, trying his best to hide from the activities around him. He was at his desk, going over some important-looking documents.

"Are you busy?" Leliana asked as he entered the study.

"I was just trying to get a bit of work done. Nothing terribly important. What can I do for you?"

"That brother of yours refuses to budge from the kitchen. And Morrigan hasn't left her room all day. How am I supposed to plan a wedding if the bride and groom to be are both off hiding somewhere?"

"I'll go have a talk with my brother. I'm sure I can make him understand the_ urgency_ of the situation." Fergus responded, with more than a little sarcasm and a smirk, "With, Morrigan, I make no such guarantees, however. But I'll try my best."

"Thanks, Fergus."

The teyrn obliged the bard and soon found himself standing in an empty kitchen. Many dishes had been cooked covering any free table or shelf. Smoke poured out of one of the pans on the still-lit stove. Fergus rushed over and removed the pan, dunking it into a large tub of water with a great hiss and a puff of steam. After the smoke cleared a bit, he noticed the door to the larder was wide open and walked over to close it. As he did, he caught the glimpse of a pair of legs sticking out from the corner. Leaning in, Fergus saw The Warden lying against several sacks of flour in the corner of the larder. A large, mostly empty, bottle of dwarven brandy hung loosely in his hand.

"You nearly burned down the entire castle, you stupid bastard." was the teyrn greeting to his brother, accenting his statement with a kick the The Warden's feet. "What are you doing?"

The Warden's head slowly turned to face his brother. His eyes blinking hard, trying to clear blurred and fuzzy vision.

"You're drunk off your arse, aren't you? Can you even stand?" Fergus asked.

"Ss..Stand? Hell...I can...I can bare...barely talk." The Warden answered in a drunken slur, finishing with a large belch.

"Maker...you're shitfaced." the teyrn moaned as he crouched down to sit next to The Warden on the floor. "Can't say as I blame you, though. Any of that left?"

The Warden handed the bottle to his brother, nearly losing his grip and dropping it. Fortunately, Fergus' reflexes had yet to be hampered by the alcohol. But that was about to change, as the teyrn put the bottle to his lips and took a large swig.

* * *

"Alistair...I'm so glad I found you." Leliana said, running up to the king outside in the courtyard.

"Found me? What for?" the king replied.

"I asked Fergus to get Dwemer out of the kitchen. That was _hours_ ago!" She huffed, obviously quite aggravated, "I just went to the kitchen. There's nobody there. It's empty."

"Did you check in his room?"

"Morrigan is still locked in there. She won't come out either." the bard said, her desperation apparent, "Alistair, you're the king. Do something."

"You want me it issue a royal order for their arrests?" Alistair quipped, sarcastically.

"This no time to be funny. This is serious. The wedding is the day after tomorrow."

"Alright, settle down. Don't get your locks in a tangle. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank, you, Alistair." the bard said, grateful for the assistance.

With a slight nod to Leliana, Alistair turned and walked up the steps to the castle. The sentry opened the way for the king, who entered the doorway into the grand foyer. Taking a right turn, Alistair headed down a stone corridor on his way to the kitchen. After another turn and a steep ramp, he found himself in front his destination.

From behind the door, Alistair could hear what sounded like someone singing. He opened the door and walked through. The first thing that caught the king's eye were the piles of food that had been prepared, all going to waste and cluttering every square inch of the kitchen.

"Maker's breath..." Alistair mumbled to himself, knowing that his friend must indeed be troubled to have cooked such a mountainous feast.

The door to the larder was left open, which also seemed to be the source of the singing. With slow steps, he walked over to the larder and looked inside. The room was a complete mess. It looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Bottles, some of which were shattered, vegetables of all sorts, broken crates, and torn flour sacks were some of the items that lay all over the floor of the larder. Over in the left corner, the two brothers sat amid the ruin, arm-in-arm, singing an old Ferelden drinking song...badly. Their warbling timbres could easily have been likened to the mating call of a moose.

"Leliana has been looking for you. _Both_ of you." the king said to the pair after the assault on his ears had ceased.

"Oops..." Fergus said. "I knew I forgot something."

"You're both drunk!" Alistair exclaimed.

"And...an..and Morr*hic*igan says...Morrigan says...you're dumb." The Warden attempted to retaliate through his stupor.

"Look at you. You can barely even talk. Leliana isn't going to like this."

"Who?" Fergus asked.

"Lel...Lelian...Leli...You know...the red head." The Warden answered his brother.

"Ah! Red!" Fergus exclaimed, remembering the bard at last.

"Come one, you two. Let's get going." Alistair urged as he attempted to tug on their arms.

"Boo!" Fergus yelled, tossing an empty bottle at the king, which he dodged causing the bottle to break against the far wall. "Hey, Dwemer. This guy is trying to ruin our fun."

"I'm serious. I am giving both of you a direct royal order to report to Leliana immediately." Alistair commanded, trying to sound as serious as he could. His plan backfired as he found himself dodging another empty bottle, this one tossed by The Warden, as the brothers broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Come on, now. I mean it." Alistair pleaded, "I am telling you as your king..."

"Oh, get the stick out of your arse and grab that other bottle off the shelf." Fergus said, gesturing to the lone remaining bottle of brandy sitting on a shelf across the room.

"Fine. Have it your way. I guess if you can't beam 'em..." The king relented as he grabbed the brandy from the shelf, popped the cork stopper, and took a long drink.

"Look at this place. It's a mess." Alistair said as he passed the bottle to Fergus, who quickly turned it up.

"It's my bloody castle. I can mess it up if I want." Fergus retorted, wiping his face with the back of his hand, as he, in turn, passed the bottle to The Warden.

* * *

The sounds of a lock being released and a latch opening echoed in the corridor. Morrigan swung the door to her quarters open and walked out, on her way to fetch Seth once more from the castle nanny. Before proceeding, The witch cast glanced to her left and right, making sure the coast was clear and she was not being followed. When she was satisfied the all was safe, she started down the long hallway.

"There you are!" a voice cried out from nowhere.

"Leliana! You startled me. I was not aware there was someone else." came the witch's reply.

"Being a bard has it's upsides."

"Indeed. I've seen cats who move with more noise than you. Now, if you'll excuse me, 'tis time for me to get Seth."

"I've been trying to get you to come down to the main hall all day. We need to make the final preparations and we can't do that without you."

"I am quite sure you can find your way without me." the witch said as she started walking.

"So, you're perfectly comfortable with the hem line on the gown? It was hand-tailored for you, remember? Zevran was kind enough to act as a stand in, but it's not the same. That and I think he liked wearing it more than you do."

"I did not just hear you say that disgusting creature was climbing about in my wedding gown. I would sooner go naked than be made to wear something after he's had his filth all over it." the witch replied, her arms folded and eyes glaring.

"Alright, that part I made up." Leliana admitted, "But I swear I'll get him to do it if you don't go down there."

Morrigan sighed deeply, "Very well, as you insist. I shall fetch Seth and meet you in the hall."

"And if you see that man of yours, tell him I'm going to wring his neck." Leliana said, clearly frustrated, "That goes for Alistair and Fergus, too."

"I've not seen Dwemer all day. Have you looked in the kitchen? You know how he gets."

"I _looked_ in the kitchen. Repeatedly. I went to ask Fergus to find him and he never came back. I asked Alistair, too. He didn't return either."

"One would get the impression that you are being avoided."

In the larder, Alistair slumped to the floor, his back resting against the cold stone wall. He held the cask of brandy up, peering in to see if anything was left, but the bottle had been drained, along with the others. To his left, the Teyrn of Highever lay against flour sacks, passed out. With a flick of his wrist, Alistair cast the bottle aside which landed against the wall across from him and shattered into bits, making a loud noise as it did.

The sound evidently attracted someone, because soon a shadow appeared in the larder doorway. Its hands resting on its hips and an icy glare emanating from somewhere in its darkened face. "So, here you are." the shadow said, ominously.

"Morrigan?" the king asked, squinting to get a better look.

"Yes, 'tis I." the witch replied, "Where is he?"

Alistair lifted his hand and slowly pointed to a corner of the larder that contained a pile of sacks of wheat and flour. Upon closer inspection, Morrigan noticed a foot sticking out of the pile. It was then that the witch heard a sound coming from somewhere deep within the sacks; the sound of muffled snoring. She went over to the collected sacks and began pushing them aside. Bit by bit a form was revealed with each sack that was moved, until at last, Morrigan found The Warden buried underneath, out cold.

"Just lovely." the witch remarked, looking down at him, "I do not even want to know how you ended up in there."

With the aid of several servants, Morrigan was able to relocate The Warden into his bed, who was totally oblivious the entire time. The witch knew he would be out for at least the rest of the day, maybe more. And since Fergus was likewise indisposed, Morrigan had to explain to Leliana there was no one else to care for Seth and that the alterations to the gown would have to be put off yet again. Naturally, the bard was less than overjoyed at the news.

* * *

The next morning, news reached Morrigan that Silas had returned to the castle and was looking for The Warden. She discreetly informed the messenger that The Warden was indisposed at the time but would meet with the younger warden as soon as he was able. The truth being that The Warden was, in fact, still sleeping off the drunken stupor from the previous day.

As the day progressed, and noon approached, The Warden finally began to stir, slowly waking up. Within seconds of opening his eyes, the affects of largest hangover of his life began to set in. The room was unmercifully bright and his eyes felt like they were on fire in his sockets. His head felt like he spent the last day letting a qunari jump up and down on it. Wearing thick, heavy boots, no less. The contents in his stomach couldn't wait to attempt an escape.

"At last he moves." Morrigan said as she placed a mug of steaming liquid on the table, its smell absolutely revolting. "Now come, have your tea."

The witch had prepared some black root tea for him. Her remedy for a hangover. At least that what she had told him it was. He thought of it more as a punishment, however, as the tea was vile and oily tasting. It tasted like liquid oysters, he thought. Keeping it down wasn't a miracle, it was impossible. "Do I have to?" he whined.

"Yes, you most certainly do." the witch said, her hands on her hips, "I went through the trouble of preparing it for you. The least you could do in return is drink it."

"But that stuff is awful."

"_You_ should have thought about that before engaging in such adolescent behavior. You have only yourself to blame. Now drink."

"Fine." he griped as he grabbed the mug from the table and started to make his way to their private garderobe.

"And just were do you think you are going?"

"What? I have to piss."

"Drink first, piss later. I'll not have you pouring it down the drain again." she said to him with folded arms.

"Alright, alright." he said as he slowly put the cup to his lips, braced himself, and downed the revolting substance as fast as he could, trying his best to avoid his tongue in order to keep from having to taste it.

"There, 'tis done and you still live. You make such a fuss about the smallest things."

Without acknowledging the witch, The Warden quickly covered his mouth, turned, and raced for the garderobe unable to keep the contents in his stomach any longer. After several long minutes, he emerged, stumbling to the table and sitting down in one of the chairs beside it, laying his elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand.

"Word came that Silas has returned to the castle and wishes to speak with you." Morrigan said as she crept up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders, gently massaging him.

"Mmmm...That feels good." he replied, "I'll go see Silas. I just need a few minutes first."

"It would be advisable for you to bathe as well. You reek of liquor and vomit."

"I love you, too." he said, reaching up and placing his hand on hers.

"Do you?" she asked, cocking her head, "If that is so, why nearly drink yourself to death? Does the prospect of marriage to me seem so revolting?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what possible reason could you have for your actions?"

"The same reason you stay locked up in here all day." he answered, turning his head to look at her. "I'm scared to death."

"Of what, exactly?"

"Of not being good enough for you and letting you down." The Warden admitted, "I am so grateful for every day I have you in my life. I'm terrified of messing that up. I don't ever want to feel like I felt after the Battle of Denerim, after you left."

"Twas not a day I remember fondly, either."

"You were so cold with me that day, like nothing we had meant anything." he said as he stood from his chair and faced her, wrapping his arms around her.

"I had to be. I could not let you see that my heart was breaking. Surely, you know that I longed to remain by your side. ." Morrigan said, her gaze dropping to the floor, "I was a fool for leaving as I did".

"But those days are far behind us, now."

"Thanks to your stubbornness and refusal to let me go." the witch replied, looking back up.

"Just how close were you to staying?"

"Closer than I care to admit." she whispered softly.

"You know why I agreed to it don't you? The ritual, I mean." he asked, staring directly into her beautiful golden eyes, "I did it because _you asked me to_. Not because I was afraid of dying. Do you remember what I asked you that night?"

"Yes..." she said as she looked up at him, "You asked me, what was the point in you being alive...if I...if ..." Morrigan paused, trying to stifle her emotions, "If I was not there to share it with you."

"That's right. And those words are more true now than ever." he said to her, "You are everything to me."

"You evil man. Look at what you've done to me." she said as she leaned in to embrace him tightly, trying to hide her tearing eyes from his view.

* * *

The youngest of the Grey Wardens paced back and forth impatiently in the foyer of the castle. He had been waiting to talk to The Warden for what seemed like hours. In truth, it had actually been less than an hour, but the youth's patience was beginning to wear thin. He had urgent news to deliver, if only The Warden would hurry up. So, Silas continued to pace, getting slightly faster and faster with each turn, until at last he saw The Warden coming into the foyer.

"It's about time you got here. I've been waiting forever." Silas said to The Warden as he approached.

"Sorry about that." The Warden replied, "I was in the middle of something."

"I'll bet you were."

"I take it you've finished your business in Highever?" The Warden asked.

"Not exactly. See, that's what I came to see you about." Silas answered and began to explain the situation, "The reason I was here in the first place is because I was tracking a group of blood mages. I followed them here, to Highever."

"What were these blood mages doing?"

"They managed to steal a blood red gem from Circle Tower."

"I don't understand."

"This was no ordinary gem, it was a reliquary for a powerful demon. If they manage to somehow release it..."

"We can't let that happen." The Warden stated firmly. "How many blood mages are there?"

"Four, led by a man named Brynnaret."

"Do you know where the mages are now?"

"They're hold up in an abandoned house on the northern edge of the village."

"I know that house. We'll leave at once." The Warden said, as eager to stop the mages as he was to have something to take his mind off the wedding.

"I was hoping that's what you'd say." Silas said with a smile.

"Let me grab my things. I'll meet you at the castle gate in fifteen minutes."

The Warden rushed back to his quarters and began grabbing the things he would need. Morrigan, who was still in the room, cast an quizzical eye at him as he collected his armor and weapons. "And where are you off to?" she asked.

"Four blood mages are hiding out in Highever. I need to go take care of it."

"Can your protege not handle the deed alone?"

"Silas is good, but he can be reckless at times. It's better if I handle this myself."

"You do know that you are fooling no one. I see your true intent. You require a distraction, nothing more."

"Morrigan..."

"Go. Slay the filthy vermin that haunts your quaint village. As ever, I shall be here when you return." She said, "But know this, I'll not have my groom covered in bandages. Do not play with them. Do only what you must then return."

"I promise. I'll be as quick as I can." he assured, pressing his lips to hers in a tender parting kiss.

After he gathered his gear, The Warden hurried back to meet with Silas at the main castle gate. "Alright, I'm ready. Let's go." he said while adjusting the straps on the twin sheaths that hung across his back.

As the pair proceeded to make their way from the castle, a voice shouted from behind them, "Wait! I'm coming with you!" It was Leliana, who was already wearing her armor and weapons.

"How did you know that we...?" The Warden asked the bard, dumbfounded. "You were hiding in the hallway, eavesdropping on us, weren't you."

"Guilty as charged." Leliana confessed, walking past both men, towards the raised portcullis. "Come on you two. After these past weeks, I need to kill something."

The trio exited through the gate and almost immediately they were swarmed as thousands of people camped outside the gate spotted The Warden and his companions. "Long live the Grey Warden!" they chanted repeatedly as he passed through their midst, continuing on down the path that led to the village below.

Before long, they arrived at the abandoned structure. The Warden signaled for the others to stop and get down out of sight. "What's going on?" Leliana asked.

"Look, there's smoke coming from the chimney. Someone is in there. Stay out of sight while I check it out." The Warden answered, crouching low and slowly going up to the building.

Leliana and Silas watched The Warden for several minutes as he silently moved around the perimeter of the house, carefully looking into each window. When The Warden had seen all he needed, he crept back to the bard and Silas who had hidden behind a large clump of bushes.

"There's four of them alright." he informed the other two, "They don't seem to be expecting anyone. There's no one guarding the doors or windows. Something doesn't seem right. This is almost too easy."

"Let's not question our luck." Silas said as he began to move from his position, "We can take them out quickly."

The Warden held out his hand, halting the youth, "Hold on, Silas. We still need to plan this out."

"What's to plan? Go in there and kill them." Silas replied, ignoring The Warden and preparing for the attack. The youth drew his blade and charged the house.

"Dammit, Silas!" The Warden exclaimed as he pulled his blades from their sheaths and rushed after the boy, Leliana doing the same.

Silas ran up to the front door and kicked it open. "Die blood mage scum!" he yelled as he rushed in with his sword raised.

The battle was fierce, but brief, however, as the four mages proved to be no match for The Warden, Silas, and Leliana. The first two mages fell before they were even able to prepare a single spell. The third blood mage had retreated further into the house, but it did little good as Silas soon caught up with him and cut him down with a single stroke. The fourth and final mage cowered and cringed as he lay wounded on the floor, bleeding freely.

"Why? Why have you done this? We were promised there would be no reprisal." the mage said seeming genuinely surprised by the attack.

"What are you talking about?" The Warden asked him, "Where's the gem?"

"The gem?" The mage asked as he looked up at The Warden and started laughing, "You're too late, Warden." he said.

"Too late for what?"

"We were paid to steal that gem and set the demon it contained free."

"Who paid you? I want answers!" The Warden demanded.

Laughter burst forth from the last blood mage, as he slumped further, his wounds close to claiming him. "I don't know who it was. But I suspect you'll find out soon enough."

"What have you done with the demon? Where is it?"

"You know how it is with demons...they go and do as they please." the mage said, chuckling.

"Enough games!" The Warden shouted, "Tell me what I want to know."

But there was no answer from the blood mage, the only sounds being the final few gurgles he could muster. His eyes slowly rolled back into his head as his life slipped away.

"Dammit, Silas! I told you to wait!" The Warden exclaimed, casting an angry glare at the boy.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Dwemer." Silas replied weakly. "I guess I just got too excited."

The Warden sighed loudly, saying "I guess I should know to expect that from you. Next time, though, we ask questions before we kill. Got it?"

"Got it." Silas dutifully acknowledged.

"Well, whatever it was they were doing, it can't bode well." Leliana said while she wiped the blood from her blade. "Somewhere out there is a demon on the loose and we have no idea where to even start looking."

"And I plan on finding that demon and sending it back to whatever dark pit it came from. But it'll have to wait a bit. I have something I need to take care of first."

"And what's that?" Silas asked.

"I have to get married."


	5. Chapter 5

**Part V**

Nightfall had come once again to Ferelden. All around Castle Cousland campfires dotted the countryside, casting out the darkness. The tent city outside the castle continued to grow as the wedding neared and there was hardly an open space left to pitch a tent. Alistair stood on the castle wall and looked across the rolling hills at the many fires that twinkled in the night, thinking to himself about his friend, The Warden.

All of the people gathered outside the gates had come to see The Grey Warden be wed. It was the event of the a lifetime. These simple folk had come from all over Ferelden and spent their hard-earned coin just so they could be in Highever for the wedding of their hero. Not even the king held such sway with the people, and he knew it. Though he would never officially hold a title, The Warden was still the most popular and powerful figure in Ferelden. He experienced greater adoration from the populace than even Teyrn Loghain enjoyed. Alistair wondered if there ever had been a man so adored by his countrymen.

"There you are." Captain Dyana said, coming up the stone steps to the wall. "I've been looking all over for you. You shouldn't be walking around without escort, your majesty."

"It's alright, captain. We're in a heavily guarded castle full of knights, after all." Alistair replied.

"Still, with this many people around, there are bound to be a few trouble makers in the bunch."

"There always are." Alistair noted, his eyes still fixed on the many specks of faint light.

"I'd feel better if you'd let me send some men into the encampments and take a look." Dyana remarked as she joined the king near the edge of the wall.

"They're just simple people here to see a wedding, Dyana. Nothing more. The last thing they need is a bunch of knights charging through their tents and stirring things up."

"Your majesty, my job is to protect you. I can't do that if you won't let me. Humor me at least a little." the captain urged, "At least take an escort with you where you go. As the king, there are those who would like to do you harm. You're not just a Grey Warden anymore."

"I will _always_ be a Grey Warden, captain. It's not something you can simply un-be. It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Still, your majesty..."

"Alright, you win. I'll take an escort." Alistair said, giving in and bringing a rare grin to the captain's face. She still knew, however, that if someone wanted to, they could cause quite a bit of trouble. And with as many people in the camps as there were, it would turn disastrous.

Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, The Warden was just settling into his temporary lodgings for the night. It was a small room, one that was normally used for guests' servants. It had a bed, chair, a table, and not much else. This would be where he spent his last night as a single man. He would not see Morrigan again until they stood before each other and exchanged vows. At least that was the Ferelden tradition. But the witch had other ideas, as usual. He hadn't been in the room for more than an hour before she came barging in, not even bothering to knock, Seth on her hip.

"_We_ need to talk." she said as she closed the door behind her.

"You do know we aren't supposed to see each other..." he replied.

"I am aware of your silly traditions, yes. We've only shared a bed together these past two years, I fail to see what difference a single night makes. 'Tis but a silly..."

"Morrigan..." he interrupted, "What did you want to talk about?"

"I need to know." she answered with a sigh, setting the child down on the floor to roam freely and plopping down on the side of the small bed.

"Know what?"

"I need to know that this is truly what you desire." she said, folding her hands together on her lap. "I am terrified of losing my freedom...my independence. If I am to do so, I must know that loss has not been in vain."

"Why would you lose your freedom?"

"We shall be _bound together_. Legally. There will be no turning back nor walking away. I will no longer be known as Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, but Morrigan Cousland, instead." she explained, a deep look of worry on her face, "So tell me that you know in your heart this is what you wish."

"You know you'll always be my wild witch." he replied with a sly grin.

"Can you not be serious for one small moment?" she shot back, annoyed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it..." he said as he stood up from the small chair, walked over to the bed and sat down next to her, putting his arm around her. "Of course it's what I want. It's what I've wanted it for a very long time. Yes, we'll both sacrifice some freedoms, but that's part of the commitment we make to each other. I don't want to control you. You're independence is one of the parts about you I love the most. I would never try to take that away."

"But you already have..." she whispered as she gently placed her hand on his cheek, "for I find myself unable to live without you."

He pressed her body closer to his, she laying her head against him. "Everything will be fine." he said, speaking softly, "After what we've been through already, I'm sure we can handle a this."

"All else we've encountered pales in comparison to what we are about to do." Morrigan disagreed, "But yet, I do this willingly and without trepidation. Damn you, Dwemer Cousland. Damn you for coming into my world and turning everything upside down."

"Everything will be just fine. Trust me, you'll see." The Warden reassured while he lightly ran his fingers down her arm, caressing her.

"It had better be."

* * *

At long last the joyous day had arrived. And what an incredibly gorgeous day it was for a wedding. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless blue sky and a soft warm breeze blew across the countryside. The masses gathered outside the gates danced and celebrated under the clear sky. Music and revelry could be heard ringing out all across the encampments. The entire village below was alive with excitement as ordinary villagers and merchants hurried to finish their tasks in time for the big event. If ever there was a perfect day to be wed, this was surely it.

"They really pull out all the stops for these things, don't they?" Zevran asked Alistair as they stood just outside the doors to the main hall.

"I grew up around this stuff. Believe me, I've seen far worse." the king replied, looking around anxiously, "It figures he'd be late to his own wedding." he mumbled.

"You are aware that an assassin might pick a time such as this to strike. I know, because I've done so myself, on occasion." the elf said in an almost thoughtful manner.

"The castle guard and Captain Dyana have security well in hand. This place is guarded tighter than the royal palace ever was."

"Still, the thought did occur to me and it seems risky to take chances. We could try killing one of the guests as an example, I suppose."

"You can't be serious. Kill one of the guests?" Alistair asked, completely stunned, "And what exactly would that accomplish?"

"To illustrate to our would-be assassin that today may not be the best day to assassinate someone after all. I could kill them quick and painlessly if you like, or much slower if you prefer that, instead."

"I think we'll let the good captain do her job." Alistair said in a uneasy voice.

"Alright, but if you should happen to change your mind..."

"Everything is ready, your majesty." Dyana said as she came down the hallway. She wasn't clad in her usual plate armor, and Alistair almost didn't even recognize her at first. She had let down her long brown hair and it hung about her shoulders loosely, bouncing up and down and she walked. She was garbed in a blue tunic that hung just below her waist and bore the crest of the Theirin family embroidered upon it, a white blouse underneath and form-fitting leather pants. Alistair recognized her outfit as a formal dress uniform. And he thought it suited her very nicely.

"Is something the matter, your majesty?" She asked, noticing his hanging jaw.

"Why...uh...no...Nothing at all." he answered, unsure of why he hadn't noticed how attractive she was before.

"We have a a phrase for these sorts of situations in Antiva: ensalada de la mierda." Zeveran said, noting the king's awkwardness.

"That sounds nice. What's it mean?" Alistair asked.

"Shit salad." Zevran answered.

"Oh...right, then."

"As I was saying, all positions are secure. I have two men at each gate, in addition to the teyrn's men, four stationed in the main hall itself, and one perched the top of the castle north tower. We are ready to proceed." The captain informed the king.

"You might be ready, but we're not." Alistair said, "The groom isn't even here yet."

"Where's he at?" asked Dyana, "We need to get started soon."

"I don't know where he is. He was supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I'll have someone go look for him."

"That won't be necessary." Zevran said as he gestured toward the other end of the corridor. And sure enough, The Warden was finally making his way to the main hall. He was dressed in a dark blue silken sleeveless robe, that was open at the front. On the left breast was stitched the crest of Highever. Beneath the robe he wore a white shirt with a high, drawstring neck line, with a small blue ribbon tied around his right arm. He wore black leather pants that were tucked at the bottom into knee-high black leather boots. About his waist was a thick belt clasped together by a large golden buckle.

"Sorry I'm late." The Warden said, approaching the others.

"Where the hell have you been?" Alistair asked, annoyed, "We've been waiting for you for more than an hour so we can get started. It is _your_ wedding after all."

"It took me a bit longer than I thought it would to get ready. These pants are murder."

"Dyana, go inform Leliana that our long lost groom has finally arrived. We can get started, finally." the king ordered his captain, who in turn, strolled off down the hallway towards the storage room that was converted into a bride's chambers, Alistair's eyes fixed on Dyana and taking in each bouncy step she took the entire time.

"Well, what have we here?" The Warden said upon seeing Alistair's grin.

"What?" Alistair said, snapping out of his trance.

"I think you've got eyes for the dear captain, my friend."

"I have no idea what your talking about." Alistair said, feigning ignorance. "Come on, let's go take our spots."

Inside the great hall of Castle Cousland, many honored guests filled the room, quietly conversing with one another. Friends, family, and even several dignitaries sat in all the chairs that had been placed. The room was heavy with the fragrance of exotic flowers and incense. Hundreds of lit white candles lined the side walls, bathing the whole hall in a soft, shimmering light. In the far corner the musicians were gathered playing a traditional folk song that was popular at Fereldan weddings, the sounds of the flute and vielle echoing throughout the hall.

The Warden would have given Morrigan any kind of wedding she wanted, but surprisingly, a traditional Fereldan wedding was precisely what the witch desired. In her world, there was seldom the type of permanence that marriage offered. There was nothing for her to even compare it to. She once told The Warden that the Chasind view marriage in far different terms than most folk. There is no formal ceremony to speak of; a man simply claimed a woman until he tired of her or she was taken from him. Add to that the fact that no other Witch of the Wilds had ever been wed before, Morrigan thought it only logical to have such a wedding.

In the eastern end of the great hall a stage had been constructed, the floral decorations and satin ribbons obscuring the large fireplace in the wall behind. At the back of the stage was a large wooden chair with deep blue cushions. The chair was covered with many intricately detailed carvings. In the chair sat the revered mother of the Highever chantry, Delarus, patiently waiting to begin the proceedings. She cast an eye at The Warden, followed by a small grin, as he took his place to her right, accompanied by Alistair.

Soon after, Leliana burst into the room, quickly walking up the steps to the stage, going up to the revered mother, and whispered something in her ear. Delarus looked over at the musicians and gave a gentle nod. A hush fell over the room as the musicians started playing the wedding music, indicating to all that the ceremony was starting.

Leliana assumed her position to the revered mother's left, her light blue dress almost seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. The dress was cut to just below the knee and trimmed with white lace. It was the first time The Warden had ever seen her in a dress. Most of the time, the bard preferred more masculine attire and he had never really seen this side of her before.

The large wooden doors swung open and a small boy and girl entered stepping in time with on another in a slow deliberate march, each carrying a small blue pillow that had a gold ring resting on top. Behind them was Morrigan in her blue sleeveless wedding dress. The long train behind being carried by two young maidens.

The witch's hair was put up in a bun that was held in place by a silver comb, set with several small diamonds. A matching diamond covered tiara on her crown twinkled in the light of the many candles. Around her right arm was a blue ribbon that was exactly the same as the one The Warden had tied to himself. She took her place next to Leliana with The Warden thinking she had never looked more beautiful.

She cast a look at him that said _Stop staring at me. I feel uncomfortable enough as it is_.

His return look said to her _You look absolutely beautiful_.

_You are staring at my breasts!_

_Yes...Yes I am._

_Well, stop!_

His reply came in the form of a large grin, Morrigan shaking her head at him.

Delarus stood from the chair and raised her hand to the musicians, causing them to cease playing. Her old hazel eyes looked first at The Warden and then at Morrigan, then, after bowing her head for a quick silent prayer, she began speaking.

"We are gathered together today in the sight of these witnesses and the Maker to join this man and this woman into the bonds of matrimony, that most sacred of institutions. A covenant so honored that the Maker, himself, took the woman, Andraste, for his bride. If there is any man who speaks against this joining let him do so now, or hold his tongue in silence forever after."

The silver-haired priest turned her attention on the couple before her, saying, "If there is any reason at all in your hearts that you should not be wed, confess it now or remain silent forever after." Neither Morrigan nor The Warden spoke, merely looking upon one another with nervous eyes.

"Very well, then." Delarus said as she turned to address The Warden, "Dwemer, will you have this woman, Morrigan, as your wife, to live together in a state of matrimony as decreed by the Maker? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you shall live?"

"I will." he answered, smiling to his bride.

Turning to Morrigan, the revered mother said, "Morrigan, will you have this man, Dwemer, as your husband, to live together in a state of matrimony as decreed by the Maker? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you shall live?"

"I will." she answered softly, looking directly into his eyes.

Delarus reached out and grabbed both The Warden and Morrigan by the hand and brought them together so that they joined. "In accordance with tradition, you will now recite the vows you have written for one another." she said, facing The Warden. "Dwemer..."

"I didn't take me long to think about what I wanted to say to you. I've been waiting to say it for so long." he said, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I never asked to be The Grey Warden. It's not something that comes easy for me. Everyone always expects me to be perfect and they place me on such a high pedestal. They forget that I'm just an ordinary man with emotions and flaws, just like anyone else. But you...You know me. You know my true heart."

He gently squeezed her hands in his, feeling her tremble, "Loving you is the easy part. I was snared the first time I saw you. You are everything I could possibly hope for in a partner and more. You are my equal in all things. And I swear an oath to you that I will spend the rest of my life trying to honor you as a husband."

The witch's eyes stared back at him with a warmth he'd never seen before. The look on her face clearly indicating that she knew exactly how he felt about her and that she, at last, accepted it without shame or remorse.

The revered mother gestured to the witch, indicating it was her turn to speak. "In truth, there is much I would tell you. But as I tried to write these feelings down, I found I was unable." Morrigan admitted, "As much as I desired to tell you, the words would always escape me. Maybe 'tis because there are no words for what I feel."

Morrigan looked down, staring at her hands being held by his. She allowed herself to feel not only the sensation of his touch, but the emotions that accompanied it, letting them wash over her, giving her the strength she needed to find the words. She looked back up at him and said, "If not for you, I would still be lost amid the wilds, foolishly wasting my life. I knew nothing of what it means to love or be loved in return. You showed me those things, and so much more. Your unending patience with me was always a mystery. You accepted me as I was, completely. And asked of me nothing more. I often wondered to myself why you would do these things. But I wonder no longer as I have seen your devotion to me. As I am devoted to you. There was a time when I would view my life's intended direction and such a thing as love was nothing but a foolish distraction, a...weakness, only serving to get in the way. But now...now I cannot bear to be without you. I find myself lying awake at night just to hear you breath...to know that you are truly there beside me and not merely some dream. This maddening affect you have on me is almost unbearable. I cannot help myself...I love you with all my being. There are many things I do not yet understand, but you have my promise that I shall be ever vigilant in my attempt to be the wife you wish me to be."

Never before had the witch spoken to him in such a manner. What she said was completely from her heart and The Warden was touched to his very core by her words. The witch's sincerity moved Leliana to tears, the bard being truly shocked to hear such beautiful words coming from Morrigan.

With a gesture from Delarus, the small boy near The Warden removed the ring from the pillow and gave it to the revered mother, the girl next to Morrigan doing likewise "Bless these rings, O Maker, that those who give and receive them remain ever faithful to one another until they shall pass from this Earth." the priest uttered.

Delarus then handed one of the small golden bands to The Warden who took it from her and placed it on the ring finger of Morrigan's left hand, saying "With this ring, I make you my wife. With my body I will honor you. That which was mine alone, is now yours."

The second ring the priest gave to Morrigan, who in turn took it and slid it onto The Warden's ring finger of his left hand, and said, "With this ring, I make you my husband. With my body I will honor you. That which was mine alone, is now yours."

"Let us pray for the Maker's blessings." the old priest said as she placed a hand on each of the couples shoulder, "Almighty Maker, we ask for your blessing upon this man and woman that they might live faithfully together, honoring their vows to each other and this covenant."

Focusing her attention back on the pair before her, Delarus said, "Let no man pull apart that which the Maker has joined. For as much as this man and this woman have consented to be joined in marriage in the presence of the Maker and these witnesses, pledged their vows to one another, and having exchanged the symbols of those vows, I decree that they are now husband and wife, joined together in matrimony in the name of the Maker and his bride Andraste."  
Looking at The Warden, Delarus said, "You may now kiss your bride."

He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to Morrigan's, feeling the softness of her lips against his, wrapping his arms around her and embracing her tightly as he gave her a long tender kiss while those assembled burst forth into a riotous cheer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part VI**

The Warden and Morrigan stood near the large wooden doors to the main hall, shaking the hands of the many well wishers as they departed on their way to the large banquet hall on the second floor were the wedding feast had been laid out. Morrigan stood beside and slightly behind The Warden, allowing him to receive all the congratulatory handshakes, hugs, and kisses, while she politely nodded and smiled. After what seemed like hours, the long procession of guests finally ceased. The sentry on duty closed the door after the last of the guests had filed out, leaving only Leliana, Alistair, Fergus accompanied by Seth, who sat on his uncle's lap during the ceremony, Zevran, and the newlywed couple.

"The ceremony was so beautiful!" Leliana squealed, "It will make for an excellent story."

"Leliana, you will do nothing of the sort." the witch said, "This is one tale that shall remain untold."

"You can't fool me, Morrigan. Underneath all that selfishness and cruelty beats the heart of a romantic." the bard retorted, "What you said was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

The witch turned her cold glare on the bard, "Allow me to make something perfectly clear to you, what I said was meant for _him_ _alone_. Twas said openly because I thought he deserved at least as much, and for no other reason." Morrigan said in a biting and serious tone, "There will be no stories. Am I understood?"

"How can you say that? There has to be a story!"

"I tire of your insipid drivel. This conversation is finished." Morrigan said as she nodded to the sentry who opened the large door, allowing the witch to exit.

"Oh no you don't!" Leliana exclaimed as she started after the witch, "You're not getting off that easily." The remaining men chuckled as they heard the sounds of the bickering women echoing through the corridor.

"Da!" Seth yelled as he tugged at his father's leg, urging to be picked up.

"There's my big man." The Warden said to his son as he lifted him off the floor and held him in his arms.

"So, how does it feel?" Alistair asked.

"I'm glad it's over with." The Warden replied, sounding relieved.

"And now you get to spend the rest of you life with _her_. Well, I guess that's one way of keeping her from turning you into a toad." the king joked.

"My brother! The married man!" Fergus said, coming up from behind and mussing The Wardens hair. "Our parents would be so proud of you right now."

"Would they, Fergus?" The Warden asked as he shot a look of genuine doubt at the teyrn. "Would they really be proud of me?"

The teyrn, of course knew exactly what his brother was asking. The question wasn't about The Warden's deeds or accomplishments, what parent wouldn't be proud of a child who had saved a nation from destruction? The question concerned his new bride. In his gut, The Warden had always been afraid that his parents would disapprove of his association with the witch.

"I think they would have liked her, Dwemer. I really do." Fergus answered, trying to sound as earnest as he could. "I think they would approve."

"Perhaps we should be finding our way to the feast, no?" Zevran said, "I expect you're new wife will want her husband to make an appearance."

Taking the elf's suggestion, the group made their way to the second floor banquet hall were most of the guests were already busy stuffing themselves on the lavish feast that had been prepared. Roast suckling pig, quail, and venison were some of the items that covered the three long tables lining the room. At the head of the room another table had been set perpendicular to the others, with chairs placed only on the far side facing the guests. The two chairs in the center were reserved for the honored couple. It was one of only a handful of times in Ferelden's history that the king, himself, did not occupy the center seat at a feast. His place was to The Warden's left.

The celebration lasted well into the night as the guests gorged themselves, capping each course with a toast to the honored couple. Many bottles of wine were emptied, music and merriment filled the air. All the while the inebriated party goers were oblivious to the fact the newlyweds had quietly stepped out, unnoticed.

The two found their way outside, to the courtyard. They both stood looking up at the many stars that filled the night sky, him standing behind her with his arms locked about her waist. Neither said a word for a long time. There had been plenty of words said this day and now it was time to let it all soak in for a while. So they stood there quietly and gazed at the heavens.

He inhaled her scent, which was as intoxicating to him as any wine, bringing her closer to him. "Thank you." he whispered in her ear.

The witch, enjoying his attention as usual, asked, "For what?" unsure of her deed.

"For being everything I ever could have hoped for." he answered softly, his warm breath tickling the witch and raising goosebumps all over her body.

"I feel your thanks is premature. When we are both old and feeble we shall see if I still warrant such doting."

The Warden said, "I want to show you something." as he grabbed Morrigan by the hand and led her through the courtyard and up the stone steps to the allure surrounding the castle. He walked over to the edge and looked out across the many specks of light surrounding the castle.

"Do you see them?" he asked.

To which Morrigan answered, "I do."

"Those people out there...to them I some sort of...savior. They think I'm the indestructible hand of the Maker. They have no clue who I really am or what I'm really like. All they know are the stories they've heard about me. They don't know that without you I wouldn't have been able to do any of the things the stories say about me. Well, that changes tonight."

"Dwemer..."

"I think it's time the good people of Ferelden met you."

"Do not dare!" the witch fumed, but it was already too late as he had jumped on top of the parapet. The crowd below immediately broke into a loud cheer upon seeing him. Every person camped around the castle began to race towards where he stood so they could hear their hero as he addressed the large crowd.

After several moments the cheers began to subside and The Warden was finally able to speak, saying, "I am thankful to you all for your warm reception. I feel honored that so many would come to attend my wedding. It's good to know that I've been fortunate enough to touch so many lives. But I couldn't have done it alone. It took the help of many people. In particular, there was someone very special with me the entire time. Someone who made me stronger than I could ever be on my own. I'd like you to meet her..."

Morrigan had retreated back into the shadows of the wallwalk attempting the shun the attention. "You're going to have to do this eventually. They won't leave until you do." The Warden said to her as he gestured for her to join him atop the parapet.

The witch rolled her eyes and groaned. She knew, of course, he was right. Being married to The Warden meant dealing with all aspects of him, including an entire nation that adored him. She held her hand out to him and he pulled her up beside him on the wall. Morrigan's eyes met the sea of people stretched out before her for the first time and her stomach dropped. She clasped his hand tightly in hers and fought the urge to jump back down off the wall with everything she had.

"It's alright. Say something to them." he gently said to her.

"I have no idea what to say."

"Say 'hello'. They're eager to meet my new bride."

Morrigan began to wonder if she wouldn't have been better off marrying the second-most popular man in Ferelden, although that would probably be Alistair. An idea that made her nauseous. The mere thought gave the witch the courage she needed to address the throng before her.

"Greetings good people of Ferelden." she said in a loud, yet shaky voice, "I am Morrigan..."

The witch paused and cast an eye at The Warden, smiling, "Morrigan Cousland."

The crowd erupted into a large and raucous ovation.

* * *

Out in a section of the encampment, a small girl had strayed from the protective glow of her family's campfire. Her curiosity was getting the better of her, and even though her mother had specifically told her not to wander off, she just had to see if there was, in fact, a dog in the next camp. She was sure she could hear the sounds of barking coming from somewhere in the distance and she simply loved dogs. Maybe this dog would play with her, just like the one she had at home.

As the girl sneaked through the tall grass she heard voices whispering. They were arguing about something but she couldn't tell what. She held still and silent, listening to their muffled bickering. Then, without warning, she saw two dark shadows dart past her and run off into the night. After she was sure they were gone, the girl walked to where the figures came from and found that they had left something, but she couldn't tell what it was. The child quickly turned around and rushed back to her camp to get her father.

"I found something!" the girl cried, sticking her head into the white tent beside the fire, "Come quick! I found something!"

Tossing the flap aside, the girl's father crawled out of the comfort of the tent, "What's all this, then?" he asked.

"I found something! Come see!" the girl exclaimed again. Unwilling to wait for her father to realize the urgency of the situation, she grabbed his hand and began to tug on it, urging him on.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." he muttered and followed his daughter to where she had seen the object. "You stay here and I'll take a look." he said, holding his hand out in front of her while he slowly continued forward..

The man bent down to inspect the large round object left in the tall grass. His hand reached out and he touched it with his fingers, noting the outside was rough and very warm to the touch. He pulled apart the tall blades of grass obscuring his vision, revealing the object and bringing a look of complete horror to the man's face.

"We've got to get out of here! Now!" he shouted to the girl as he picked her up and ran with her in his arms as fast as he could back to his camp.

"Marlina!" he hollered to the tent, "We have to leave now! Let's go!"

"What are you talking about?" a woman asked as she emerged from the tent. "Leave? What for?"

"There's something in the grass! We have to leave now!" he yelled.

"What? What's in the grass?"

But before the man could answer, they all heard it. The pulsing beat of a leathery wing stretched over muscle and bone, flapping against the night sky, followed by the unmistakable roar of a high dragon.

* * *

Leo laid in front of the warm fireplace sound asleep while Seth was doing likewise in his bed on the opposite end of the room. The Warden lay in the bed with his hands behind his head, allowing himself to be lost in the chaotic dance of the flames of the fireplace. Morrigan had shed her bulky wedding dress and was bathing in the large marble tub in their chambers. Other than the fact they were now husband and wife, little else felt different about the evening.

Climbing out of the large basin, Morrigan grabbed a thick white towel and stepped out onto the floor. The sound of the splashing water catching The Warden's attention. He stared at her naked form as she dried herself, watching intently as she would prop one leg on a chair to dry it, and then the other. After casting the towel aside, she snatched a silken robe, wrapped it about herself, and sat down in front of her vanity. She took out the silver comb, freeing her long black hair from its confines as it fell between her shoulder blades. Picking up a brush, she began brushing her hair with long and deliberate strokes, the light of the lamp glistening off each perfect strand.

"Must you always watch me?" she asked, looking at him in the mirror's reflection.

"What's with the robe?"

"Because I find I must completely cover myself in order to brush my hair without your gawking."

"Do you hate it that I find you beautiful? Do you really want me to stop looking at you?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow at her.

"No..." she groaned. "I suppose not. However, 'tis most disconcerting when your gaze is continually fixed on some part of my body."

"Would it help if I wore a helmet so you couldn't see?"

"Impossible man." she said, exasperated.

"I've seen you naked more times than you've seen yourself. You're not really that big on clothes, remember?"

"That may be so. However, there are times when even I desire to be covered. 'Tis not so odd a thing."

"I never said it was..." he said with a puzzled look on his face, "The only thing odd here is the way you're acting."

Morrigan set down the brush and stood from the chair. "'Tis our wedding night. Let us not waste it with such trivialities." she said in a seductive voice while walking toward him. With a quick hop, she was in the bed, kneeling over him, his legs caught between hers.

"Not when there are so many other ways we could be spending our time." she purred as she leaned closer to him, her lips hovering dangerously close his.

"What did you have in..." his coy response was cut short by the witch as she moved in for the kill. Her urgent kissing was all the answer he needed.

He began to pry her robe apart, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him, saying, "No, my love. This night, you are mine and I shall do with you as I please." bringing a wide grin to his face. She leaned over to the lamp, and with a quick puff, blew it out.

The sound of passionate kisses being placed and received in the darkness was broken by the occasional giggle from the witch. "What's so funny?" The Warden asked.

"Your beard...it tickles. Perhaps you should shave it off. After all, I've never seen you without it."

"Shave my beard? I've had it since I could grow one." he said in a somewhat nervous voice, "I _really_ like my beard."

"'Tis but a thought. Something for you to consider." she finished, between planting soft kisses along his neck and down to his shoulders. She untied the drawstring on his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it aside somewhere on the floor. Her lips explored every inch of his chest, going to each of his nipples in turn and torturing him in the exact same fashion he had done to her on so many occasions. First she lightly nibbled, then sucked softly, then, to top it all off, she placed her mouth just above the now-stiff peak and gently blew, driving him insane.

A noise started to fill the air. A chaotic noise made up of many voices, all of them screaming in terror. Out beyond the castle wall, the people were in a panic as their cries for help rang out into the night, accompanied not long afterward by the deafening roar of something terrible.

There came a rapid banging at the door, the sudden noise startling the sleeping child awake. "My lord! Come quickly! It's urgent!" a man on the other side of the door said, fear in his voice.

The Warden grumbled and jumped out of bed, opening the door to reveal one of the castle's knights standing in the corridor. "What's going on?" The Warden asked.

"Something's attacking the camps around the castle!" was all the knight could reply.

"I'm on my way." The Warden said, turning to gather his weapons and armor.

The situation was not sitting well with the witch, "Tonight of all nights?" she huffed as she walked over to The Warden. "Surely the castle guard can handle the situation without your aid."

A quick glance out the window informed Morrigan of the seriousness of the situation, as her eye caught the site of a large high dragon soaring through the sky, it's gaping black maw spewing a long stream of flame into the terrified mob below.

"Damn!" she muttered, clenching her fists at her sides, "Go. Slay the beast. I shall tend to Seth in your absence."

"Next time I'll let you kill the dragon and I'll watch Seth." he said with a forced smile.

"As usual, I find your humor inappropriate. Do not act a fool. Kill the creature quickly and return to me the instant you are able, and not a moment later." Morrigan commanded, her hands on her hips and a fiery glare in he eyes.

"Does she always talk to you like that?" the knight asked as he and The Warden rushed down the corridor.

"Like what?" The Warden asked in return.

"Ordering you around and all."

"That's not what I heard."

"Pardon, my lord, but perhaps you should have your hearing checked, then." the knight suggested, "What exactly did you hear her say?"

"That's between us, and I'd prefer keeping it that way."

"Yes, my lord." came the knights dutiful reply.

In The Warden's mind he saw it very clearly. The look on her face as she said to him, "Be careful and do not be long. You know how I worry." was a face she had worn on many previous occasions, and no doubt, would wear many times again.

With a hard tug, The Warden jerked the large wooden door to courtyard open and ran down the steps, finding the teyrn and the king already there shouting orders to the knights and soldiers that ran frantically about. He could see the dragon soaring over the camp, belching great balls of flame. The raging fires shrouded the air with plumes of thick, black smoke that rose into the night sky, blotting out the stars.

"Open the main gate and get those people in here!" Fergus yelled to his men.

"Wait! Don't!" The Warden shouted.

"Are you mad? They're being slaughtered out there." the teyrn yelled back.

"Fergus, there's not enough room in here for all of them. We'd be trapped with no room to move. We don't need to get the people in here. We need to get that dragon in here, away from them."

"And just how do you propose we do that?" Fergus asked.

"Leave that to me." The Warden answered, running off back into the castle.

As quickly as he could, The Warden rushed to a special locked chest in the castle armory. It contained some of the powerful and magical weapons he was able to acquire over the course of his travels. Specifically, a quiver of arrows that had lyrium folded into them in such a way as to make them radiate extreme cold, instantly freezing anything they touched, and a magical bow that greatly increased his aim. He took both items from the chest and hurried off deeper into the castle. Finding the stairs to the southwest tower, he ran up them as fast as his legs would carry him, throwing the hatch to the top open and climbing the ladder to the roof.

From the highest point in the castle he was able to see everything. The night was lit up by fires engulfing all the encampments around the castle. He could see the people running in terror from the great beast as it swooped down for another attack. The dragon was still far out of range, and magical though they were, a single frost arrow was bound to do little against a high dragon. He would need something bigger to get the beast's attention.

Drawing his blade, The Warden slashed the cord holding the banner to the tall pole in the center of the roof, leaving one end still anchored in the stone at the base of the pole. He pulled the small rope free and tied one end to a frost arrow. Drawing back the bow with all his strength, The Warden waited for the dragon to come around the castle again to make another pass, and as it did he let loose the arrow which sailed through the air and missed the dragon, continuing on its path until it struck another of the castle's many towers, the magical tip digging deep into the stone and sealing the arrow in place with a clump of ice.

The dragon rounded the castle towers to come in for another pass, coming back across the castle and headed right at the unseen cord stretched across its path. The thin rope was pulled almost to the breaking point as it caught the beast by the neck. A loud "Gawrk!" sound came from the creature, surprised as much as it was hurt. The beast spiraled toward the ground, forcing those in the courtyard below to seek shelter as it plummeted towards them. At the last moment, the dragon's wings unfurled, caught the wind, and kicked up a large cloud of dust, as they propelled the beast up and over the castle wall.

The dragon roared in anger as it flew around the tall southwest tower. A large tremor nearly knocked The Warden from the roof as the creature slammed into the tower, its razor sharp claws biting into the stone. "I think he got it's attention." Alistair said to the teyrn as they watch from the courtyard below.

The dragon raised its horned head over the side of the parapet, blasting forth a stream of flame at the little insect who dared to enrage a high dragon. The Warden's armor, being made of drake scale, was highly flame resistant, but even still, he'd never survive a direct hit from the breath of a high dragon. He jumped to the edge of the wall, underneath the flame, ducking out of the way as best he could.

The dragon was relentless in its desire to roast The Warden. It shot blast upon blast, forcing The Warden to jump and dodge all about the roof of the tower. There just wasn't enough room up there to fight the dragon, he was too confined and the beast knew it as well. It was only a matter of time before the dragon's breath found its target. He would have to move their battlefield to a more open location.

As quietly as he could, The Warden drew his blades, waiting for his moment to strike. When the dragon leaned its long head around to try yet another angle, that's when he made is move. As the dragon started to take in a deep breath, The Warden jumped up and onto the parapet, sticking one of his blades deep into the side of the beast's neck. Blood began to gush forth freely from the wound while the dragon roared in anger. He left the blade buried in the creature, and, griping the handle as tightly as he could, The Warden leaped from the parapet ledge, swinging himself around to the dragon's back.

The dragon let go of the tower and took off into flight, attempting to dislodge the unwanted passenger. The beast flew low near the castle towers, brushing up against them as it flew passed. And when that didn't work, down through the trees, dragging The Warden through the thick branches. His face bore many tiny cuts, his arm was beaten badly and starting to go numb, yet still The Warden did not loosen his grip. He was determined to bring the beast down, whatever the cost to himself.

Taking his other blade, The Warden reached back, and with a mighty swing, sliced the dragon's right wing at the joint, rendering it useless. A shriek of pain and terror came from the creature as they fell to the ground. The Warden pulled back on his buried sword as hard as he could in an effort to urge the beast upward. Both dragon and man came crashing down from the sky, as the beast glanced off one of the towers, smashing the stone and sending large chunks falling towards the men below, before finally slamming into the ground in the courtyard and sliding some yards before stopping.

The dragon tried desperately to raise itself, but it's battered and broken body refused to cooperate. With a final dying gasp, the dragon's head collapsed back to the ground with a loud crash.

Climbing up from behind the dragon, The Warden stood atop the dead monster, a large wound gaping on his forehead and blood coming from his nose and mouth. His breastplate had been completely smashed in and he was having difficulty breathing. Upon slowly making his way off the body, he leaned against it trying to find his wind, but it wouldn't return. He gasped for air in vain. His vision was getting blurry and objects were becoming harder to recognize. He tried to walk, but his legs wouldn't hold him and he collapsed to the ground. He heard someone yelling "Dwemer!" and then everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part VII**

Alistair, Zevran, and Fergus all carried The Warden up the stairs and to his chambers, where they found Morrigan already standing in the corridor waiting for them. "Quickly, get him to the bed!" she ordered as they hauled him through door and laid him on his bed.

"Now go! Leave me! I've work to do." she commanded.

"Are you sure you won't need any help..." Alistair offered, his voice tapering off when the witch shot an icy glare at him. "Right, then. I was just leaving."

The three men filed out the door and into the hallway outside. Others from the castle were beginning to gather outside the door as well, as news of The Warden's condition began to spread. Leliana stood with her hands clasped in front of her, trying her best to peer into the room and get a look at The Warden's injuries for herself. Morrigan noticed the crowd forming, went over and closed the door, ensuring her privacy from the prying eyes.

"You stupid, stupid bastard!" she muttered under her breath while she began the laborious task of removing his armor. "What could you have possibly been thinking? You refuse to be satisfied until your recklessness gets you killed."

Peeling away his crushed breastplate and removing the shirt beneath, the witch revealed the unmistakable sickly purple and greenish bruising of broken ribs covering nearly all of his chest. A gasp escaped her. Never before had she seen him in such a condition. He had been wounded in battle many times and kept a collection of scars on his body like mementos, but he was hurt far worse than she'd ever seen him. Terror started to replace her rage as the thought of The Warden not surviving his wounds crept over the witch.

Occasionally he would regain partial consciousness and babble incoherently for a few seconds before slipping out again. Morrigan's nerves were becoming more frayed with each passing minute as there never seemed to be an end to his injuries, always finding another that needed attention; her hands and clothes stained with his blood. And so it went, all through the night, as the witch fought desperately against the hand of death so her warden might draw breath at least one more time.

She talked to his motionless form while she worked with frantic hands, saying, "Why can you not lay down your sword? Why must you always play the hero? You no longer have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. Especially now. Especially since...since..." Morrigan paused, looking at him, afraid to even speak the secret she'd been carrying for some time now, "_Damn you..._" she whispered, bowing her head.

* * *

The next morning Fergus and Alistair viewed the carnage first hand as they rode out into the camp to survey the damage. Everywhere they looked there were people who were burned and bloodied by the dragon's attack. The normally beautiful meadow was now lined with black scorch marks, burnt tents, and so many bodies.

"How many deaths, Dyana?" Alistair asked his captain as she rode up to him with a status report

"Two hundred and seventeen people, your majesty. Seventy two elves...twenty five dwarves...and one hundred twenty humans"

"No need to separate them, captain. They all died together." the king said.

"This was no random accident. High dragons just don't appear over Highever for no reason." Fergus said.

"I'm inclined to agree." Alistair replied.

"I've got my men combing the camp, looking for anything that can tell us who did this."

"Coordinate your efforts with the teyrn's men, Dyana. We can cover more ground if we work together."

"Yes, your majesty." Dyana said as she spurred her steed into a full gallop.

Knights and guardsmen poured into the camps around the castle, talking to everyone and searching for any clues to the culprit's identity. And even though the castle garrison was at full strength, there were tens of thousands of people to interview. A process that would take days, if not weeks.

The people were getting restless enough as it was. Most of them had already packed and made ready to leave, not wanting to be around for the next dragon attack. Small, localized riots developed in pockets about the camp and had to be quelled when the people were informed that he king forbade them from leaving until further notice.

Slowly and methodically, soldiers went from person to person and interviewed them in great detail. Young and old alike were questioned. Most claimed to have witnessed nothing the prior night, but a select few said they saw several pairs of individuals sneaking about the encampment in the dark, though none knew what these prowlers were up to. That is, until the soldiers came across a little girl and her family.

Their tent and everything they brought with them had been destroyed in the attack, but thankfully all had survived and the girl was able to tell the armored men about the object she saw someone leave in the tall grass. She was even able to show the soldiers were they had left it. The men, realizing instantly what the object was, snatched it up and raced to inform the king.

"Your majesty! We found something!" the soldier shouted as he approached Alistair and Fergus. "This is what the mysterious figures left in the grass." he said as he held out the large round object to the king.

"A dragon's egg." Alistair said, "So the creature _was_ led here deliberately."

"Looks that way. Dragons are very protective of their eggs." Fergus agreed.

"But who would do such a horrible thing?"

"I don't have a clue. But I have a feeling that whoever it is, isn't done yet."

"What do you mean?" the king asked.

"We were meant to find the egg. This whole incident was a message. Someone's trying to tell us that their about to stir up trouble."

"Just great. We haven't had any trouble in almost a week. I was starting to get bored." Alistair said sarcastically.

* * *

As the long shadows of evening enveloped the castle in its grip, a low groan came from The Warden as he slowly came around after lying unconscious for many hours, Morrigan having never left his side. His breathing was still very labored and hadn't gotten any better since he received his injuries; something that troubled the witch very much.

"Morrigan...?" he muttered weakly, barely even able to be heard.

"Lie still. You've been wounded." she said to him in a soft voice.

"I can't breathe..." he strained to say, every effort going into forming the words.

"Try not to talk. You've broken most of your ribs, your left arm in two places, and sustained a nasty blow to your head. 'Tis a wonder you still live at all." she said as she looked at him with red, puffy eyes. "There are things still deeper within you that are damaged as well. 'Tis why you struggle for air. Those wounds...I cannot heal...'tis beyond my abilities..." she said, her voice beginning to crack from the emotion and stress.

"You've been crying..."

"Shh. Do not concern yourself with me right now."

"I'm so sorry..."

The witch said nothing at first, merely looking at him and doing her best to remain composed, but even though his sight was failing him, The Warden could see the worry in her eyes and the toll his condition was taking on her. "Is it your aim to make me a widow so soon?" she finally asked.

"Of...course not..." he gasped.

"I cannot do this, Dwemer. You cannot expect me to have to continually deal with this. You have a family now. What of us?" she pleaded with him.

"What...was I...supposed..to do?"

"You could have let the others help. You could have let someone else take the risk for once."

"Who...?"

"Does it matter? So long as you are not the one getting hurt."

"No more. I promise. No more..." he muttered, his voice fading as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Oh, my love," she whispered as she looked at his broken body, "were it only as easy as simply making a promise."

Morrigan placed her hand on his right arm and held it there for a while and lightly stroked it. His ragged breathing was getting worse and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She hated feeling helpless, yet that's exactly what she was. Unless something could be done, her warden would surely not survive much longer.

Someone knocking at the door caught Morrigan's attention. She called out, "Who disturbs me?" in an annoyed voice.

"It's Silas. I heard what happened." a young voice said from the other side of the door.

Raising up from her chair next to the bed, the witch went over and cracked the door slightly, peering through the tiny slit. She saw the youngest of the Grey Wardens standing outside with an anxious look on his face. "Please, let me come in." he said.

"He is in no condition to receive visitors. He needs his rest. I shall inform him that you were here when he awakens." was the witch's reply.

"I can help. Please, let me in just for a moment." The lad said urgently.

"How can you possibly help? I was not aware Grey Wardens were skilled in healing."

"I'm no healer, but I do know of something that might work...something magical."

As much as she didn't want to admit it, Morrigan was getting desperate, and while she was never one to grasp at straws, magic was something that she intimately familiar with. She was convinced it was the only thing capable of saving The Warden's life at this point.

"You may enter." she said, opening the door all the way and allowing him entrance, "But be quick. I've little time to devote to conversation."

"Thank you." Silas replied as he stepped through the doorway and into the room, the witch closing the door again with a loud slam as soon as he was inside.

The young warden saw his mentor laying still in the bed, battered, bruised, and covered in bandages. Beside his bed were several vessels of water, some stained with blood, others fresh and ready to be used to keep The Warden's many wounds clean. Old dressings had been cast into a metal pail that was nearly full of blood-soaked cloth while a stack of fresh bandages lie on the small table next to the bed.

"Maker...he looks in rough shape." the lad noted.

Morrigan had been working without rest to keep her warden alive and it was taking a visible toll on her. "I invited you in because you bring news, not to stare at my husband." she said, her patience wearing extremely thin.

"Right..." Silas replied, his eyes still fixed on The Warden, "I might know of something that can help him. It's a talisman and, as luck would have it, it's not too far from here."

"A talisman? What sort?"

"It's supposed to have healing properties...it can cure any physical ailment. As long as his wounds aren't magical in nature, it should work. I heard about it while I was tracking the blood mages to Highever, it was offered to me as a bribe from one of the mages I questioned, but I had no need of it so I turned him down."

"And this mage who knows its location? Where might he be?"

"Uhm...he's dead. Like I said, I had no need of the talisman at the time."

"Then you have done nothing but waste my time." Morrigan quipped while she started to guide Silas to the door with her hand.

"Wait..." the lad pleaded, "The mage told me where it was before he died."

"Before you killed him, you mean." Morrigan said with her arms folded and eyes glaring, "I've no times for games, boy. Tell me what I need to know."

"On the coast of the Waking Sea, east of here, near Amaranthine, is a small inlet. There's a cave used by bandits and smugglers. It's concealed from view but I'm pretty sure I can find it. That's were the talisman is." Silas explained as best he could, the witch's attitude making him very nervous.

"Are you certain?" Morrigan asked.

"Yes, I'm positive. I can leave immediately to go after it." the young warden answered.

"I shall accompany you." the witch said as she opened her large wardrobe, grabbed a knapsack, and began grabbing items and placing them inside.

"I don't need help. I can do this on my..." Silas' comment cut short by Morrigan's glare, "Then again, help is always...helpful."

Going over to the door to the room, Morrigan opened it, and seeing Leliana, Alistair, and Zevran, who had been waiting outside the door all night, said, "You three, gather your things and meet me in the courtyard. We've a journey to make."

"Now wait just a minute." Alistair exclaimed, "You've been locked up in there all night and you haven't told us anything. You won't even let us see him. And now we're supposed to pack our bags for a trip because _you_ say so?"

Morrigan's reply was as swift as it was ice cold, "Alistair, allow me to be clear, he yet lives but his condition worsens by the moment. If you are quite done being an arrogant imbecile and truly willing to help a man whom you say is your friend, then I highly suggest you close your mouth, pack your things, and meet me in the courtyard."

"Ouch." Zevran said, wincing.

"Morrigan...I..We're just worried about him, that's all." Alistair said, much more subdued.

"While 'tis both understood and appreciated, we've precious little time for sentimentality. There may be a way to cure him but it will require us to leave for several days. He may not last that long so time is of the essence."

"Right, We'll meet you in the courtyard." the king said

* * *

"There are no roads where we're going so it's going to be all on foot. Horses would only slow us down." Silas said as the group gathered in the courtyard, ready to leave.

"And just exactly how far is this cave?" Morrigan asked.

"About a day's travel east. If we hurry, we can be back here by tomorrow night or the next morning." Silas answered.

"Fergus and Captain Dyana will keep searching for who's responsible for the dragon attack while we're away." Alistair said as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, "Hopefully they'll have some answers by the time we get back."

With a wave from the witch, the guardsmen in the gate tower turned the large wheel opening the main gate, which creaked loudly as it swung wide. Morrigan and the rest of her party passed through the gate and into what was left of the surrounding encampment. Near the gate a makeshift altar had been constructed which was covered by many lit candles and letters of prayer asking the Maker to heal The Warden. Huddled around the altar, many common people knelt in vigilant prayer on The Warden's behalf. Upon seeing the witch, many of the camp's inhabitants approached seeking any news on his condition and to offer condolences.

"Maker bless you in your time of trouble, lady Morrigan." one said to her.

"The Warden is in our prayers." said another.

A large gathering started to form around the party as they made their way from the castle. Most offered words of sympathy, while a few others even bore gifts. One young girl handed Morrigan a small bundle of wildflowers, saying, "I picked these for The Warden. Could you make sure he gets them? I know he'll be alright. He just has to be. Nothing can hurt him."

Morrigan was truly touched by the outpouring of support from these people whom she had never met before. She accepted the flowers from the girl without saying a word, only giving a small smile and a nod.

None of these people were capable of slaying a high dragon, if not for The Warden, most of them would surely be dead. He was their protector. Their savior. And they adored him for it. Morrigan was beginning understand why The Warden did the things he did for them: because they needed him to and he was able.

The party traveled east from Castle Cousland, heading for the coast of the Waking Sea. If their luck held, they could be there by nightfall. Silas said that the cave should be deserted this time of year, at least that's what the mage had told him. Getting in and finding the talisman should prove to be fairly easy. But as the witch was finding out, when it comes to The Warden nothing is ever easy.

The going was tedious over the rough terrain, as many hills, gullies, and patches of thick underbrush had to be navigated. Most of the group walked together as they traveled, except the witch, who stayed back from the rest a bit, keeping to herself as best she could. After a while, Leliana noticed Morrigan lagging behind, and thinking the witch depressed over The Warden, decided she would do her best to lift Morrigan's spirits, reasoning that everyone could use a friend once in a while, even a cold hearted witch of the wilds.

"He's going to be alright, you know." the bard said as she slowed her pace to match Morrigan's

"Hmmm...?" the witch said as if her mind had been elsewhere.

"Dwemer...he's going to be fine." Leliana reiterated.

"Of course he will." the witch replied, still seeming distracted.

Leliana raised a curious eyebrow at the witch, "There's something different about you, lately." she noted, not quite able to place her finger on it.

The bard's words gained the full attention of the witch who asked, "How do you mean?"

"I'm not sure." Leliana replied as she thought about it, "Well...for one thing, you're actually wearing clothes. Not that you don't normally, but usually a lot less of them."

"Perhaps, I simply decided that I prefer the expensive clothing I've never had the opportunity to wear before."

"No, that's not it. You're trying to hide something."

"I will not play this ridiculous game with you." Morrigan snapped back, eager to end the conversation.

"Now I'm sure you're hiding something. What could it possibly be?"

"Leliana, you are behaving like a child. Stop this foolishness at once."

Instead, the bard looked the witch over with a keen eye, looking for any discernible crack in Morrigan's story. She let out a loud gasp as it hit her. "You're _pregnant_!" she cried.

"You will keep your voice down!" Morrigan huffed.

"I knew it!" Leliana squealed, "Does he know?"

"No, he does not. I've not had the opportunity to tell him."

"You've had plenty of chances to tell him. You've been keeping it a secret on purpose. Why?"

"He dotes on me entirely too much as it is. The last thing I need is for him to order an entire castle to care for me. I had intended to tell him when we moved into the cottage after our trip to Redcliffe. But that has since changed." Morrigan explained.

"You must be pretty far along if your trying to hide your belly."

"As near as I can figure, just over two months." the witch replied, and with a stern look, said, "You have found out my secret. You are to tell no one. Am I clear, Leliana?"

"I won't tell." Leliana said, still giddy over the news.

Having noticed the two women trailing behind, Alistair went to see what the reason was for their slower pace, "What are you two doing back here?" he asked.

"Morrigan is pregnant!" the bard blurted out.

"Leliana!" Morrigan exclaimed. "I said tell _no one_!"

"It's only Alistair. He doesn't count."

The witch rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Uh...congratulations?" Alistair offered meekly.

* * *

The vision in his eyes was clear once again as The Warden woke from what seemed like a long horrible nightmare. He took in a deep breath and for the first time there was no pain in his lungs or fiery burning in his throat. There was no rattling in his chest and no constant throbbing ache. He could move his left arm freely without pain. It was completely healed. He was completely healed. He looked over to see Morrigan sitting in her normal spot beside the bed smiling at him.

"Morrigan?" he asked, stunned, "What happened?"

"'Tis not obvious? You've been healed." she replied, her beautiful golden eyes being staring back at him.

"But how?"

"You are well, 'tis all that matters right now." she answered, being evasive.

His astonishment soon turned to regret, as he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I promise it'll never happen again. From this moment on, The Grey Warden is retired."

"Do not be so quick to still your blades, my love, for soon, there will be need of them again."

"What do you mean?" he asked with a puzzled look, "I thought that's what you wanted?"

"And why would I want something so foolish as that? In these troubled times, your talents will be required. Sooner than you think." she answered.

"What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"Soon, my love, all will be revealed. A storm is coming to sweep away the vermin and filth of this land. We must ensure we are prepared when it arrives."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part VIII**

The air was thick with the mist of the sea as large waves repeatedly crashed upon the rocks, sending billowy clouds of spray and vapor into the air. Morrigan and her companions hid behind an outcropping of rock that was soaked from the continual mist that drenched it. Silas assured the witch that this was indeed the inlet they were searching for. Somewhere close by a cave lie hidden from view, and in that cave lay the only hope of life The Warden had. Morrigan was not leaving this place without it.

"I don't see anything." Alistair said as he peered around.

"We'll have to get closer." Silas replied and he started to hop from behind the rocks and move in closer to the water's edge to get a better look.

"Foolish boy." Morrigan muttered under her breath, "He will be the death of us all."

Much to the young warden's surprise, the witch reached out and grabbed him by his arm and held him back., saying "If we are to do this, then it shall be done my way. Reckless heroics is the sole reason we are here." Morrigan then directed Zevran and Leliana to quietly scout ahead while the rest of the group remained back by the outcropping.

The assassin and the bard stealthily combed the area looking for anything that might be out of place or out of the ordinary. For many long minutes they crisscrossed their way back and forth along the shoreline from one end of the inlet to the other, until at last the elf indicated that he found something. There was a small pile of rocks that were a slightly different color than the rest and they appeared to be stacked in such a way as to conceal something.

Leliana and Zevran began moving the stones while the rest of the party moved from their location behind the rocks and joined the two in uncovering what lay beneath the pile. And before long, a hole in the side of the bank was revealed; a small opening about four feet tall.

Morrigan looked into the cave and saw nothing but pitch black. Not even a faint glimmer of light shone inside the cavern. She felt her stomach becoming unsettled as she thought about the tight, cramped spaces the lay ahead. "Of all places, it had to be a cave." she thought to herself.

Alistair removed his backpack, set it on the ground, and began rummaging through it trying to find something. After a bit of searching, he pulled out three torches, some tinder, and a flint from within the pack, followed soon by a grumble.

"What's the problem?" Leliana asked.

"The tinder is wet. I can't light the torches." Alistair answered.

"Alistair, sometimes you are completely useless." the witch quipped, holding out her hand, "Give them to me."

Morrigan held her hand up to the end of the torch and a bright flash sparked from her palm, causing the torch to burst into flames. She touched the other torches to the one that was lit, igniting them as well. Passing a torch to Leliana and Zevran, she said, "It appears as if the cave is abandoned after all. Come, let us find this talisman quickly." and ducked into the opening, vanishing into the darkness.

"Do you always let her talk like that to you?" Silas asked the king while the others followed Morrigan into the cave.

"She doesn't mean anything by it, I'm sure. She's only worried about Dwemer." he answered.

"Still... you _are_ the king. I would never let any of my subjects talk to me like that."

"You have a lot to learn, yet. Things that are stiff and rigid generally break quickly. That isn't the kind of king I want to be." Alistair said, patting the younger warden on the back, "Now let's hurry before we get left behind. They have all the torches, remember?"

Just inside the opening, the cavern spread out considerably and became larger. All around the sound of dripping water could be heard. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and stalagmites rose from the floor like so many rows of dagger sharp teeth ready crush an unwary victim at any second, their wet and shiny surfaces reflecting the torchlight and making the cave even brighter. To the south led a passageway that was carved into the solid stone. The passageway was man-made, with smooth walls and a long, straight path heading deeper underground.

"Do you hear that?" the bard asked as a cracking and popping sound was accompanied by low rumbling noise from somewhere deep in the tunnel.

"This passage was definitely not carved out by dwarven miners. The walls are weak and crumbling from the wet ground above." the elf commented, adding with a groan, "And my boots are getting soaked."

"What we're looking for is kept in a small gold box." Silas informed while the group started down the passage.

The group followed the passageway which ran for several hundred feet before coming to a small opening. This area appeared to be some form of junction as corridors were both to the left and the right as well as one that continued forward. Morrigan looked down both the left and right passages repeatedly, as if unsure where to go next.

"Which way?" Leliana asked.

"Damn..." the witch said in frustration, "How would _he_ proceed?"

"He'd turn this place upside down, searching out every nook and cranny." the king answered.

"But we haven't time for that." Morrigan replied, trying hard to think, "Leliana ...You shall scout one passage while Zevran and Silas inspect the others. I will remain here and protect Alistair from himself." she finished as she gave Silas her torch and held out her palm, a bright bluish flame bursting forth that was far brighter than all the torches combined.

"Hey!" Alistair exclaimed, "You make it sound like I'm a walking accident."

"May I remind you exactly who it was who set his _own_ foot aflame in the deep roads?"

"I remember that." Zevran said, "Wasn't that when he lost his sock...?"

"No," Leliana corrected, "You're thinking of when he wandered off and we had to..."

"Alright, alright! Let's just drop it." Alistair interrupted forcefully, "Fine. I'll stay here and _be_ _protected_".

Silas, Leliana, and Zevran each ventured down a different corridor, the light from their torches fading from view. It was Leliana who returned first after checking the southern passage. She informed the others that it did indeed lead further south and emptied into a large chamber at the end. Zevran was next to return from the tunnel that led east, having found nothing of interest, noting that the passage led to a small storage room that was almost empty.

The western tunnel began to flicker with the faint glow from Silas' torch as he made his way back to the others. As he came into view, panic crossed his face as the ground beneath his feet began shaking. Cracks were forming in the rock all around him, breaking off shards of stone as the tunnel wall began to split. There was little doubt what was happening.

The witch shouted, "Run Silas! The tunnel is collapsing!"

Silas broke into the fastest run he was able, driven by fear and desperation. He dodged large fragments of rock and leaped over a mounds of dirt that fell from the ceiling while he fled as quickly as he could. But it wasn't enough as the walls of the tunnel came crashing in on him before he could clear the opening. Dust clouded the air and a large pile of rubble and debris totally sealed off the western tunnel.

"No!" Morrigan cried as she dug her hands into the rock trying in vain to clear the rubble.

"Morrigan, It's too late." Alistair said, "The entire passageway collapsed on him. No one could have survived that. Not even Dwemer."

"We have to try, Alistair!"

"He's gone, there's nothing you can do about it now. We need to keep moving before the tunnel collapses on us as well."

"How can you be so callous? And you say I am cold."

"We all knew the risks coming here. Even Silas. It happens, Morrigan. It wasn't your fault."

"Twas I who sent him to his death. 'Tis a feeling I dislike very much."

"We all do, and it never gets any better, either. The best thing we can do now is find this talisman so Silas won't have died in vain."

As much as she didn't want to, Morrigan abandoned her attempts at digging for the young warden who now lay buried under untold tons of rock. It was becoming all to clear to the witch that being the leader of a group wasn't nearly as easy as The Warden made it out to be. She felt it was her mistake that cost Silas his life, and Morrigan hated making mistakes. "Quickly, then." she said, darting off down the southern corridor

Just as Leliana said, the tunnel did continue straight for several hundred more feet. An occasional groan from the surrounding walls spurred the group on more rapidly. Finally, at the end they came into a larger round chamber. It looked to be where the bandits would bunk, as there were several cots lined up along one of the walls. A desk sat across from the beds against the opposite wall, no doubt were the smugglers and thieves kept their ledgers.

"'Twill be in a small golden box." the witch said, remembering what Silas had told her before.

"There it is!" Leliana exclaimed pointing to the box as it sit on the desk.

Morrigan ran over, snatched the box from the desk and pulled the top open. A look of panic and confusion washed across her face. "I do not understand." she said, "The box is bare. There is nothing here."

"Are you sure he said a golden box?" Leliana asked.

"Yes, I am quite sure. We were all there, you heard it as well. Silas most assuredly said twas in a small golden box!" Morrigan snapped back, starting to get very agitated, saying, "Search the entire room! It must be here somewhere!", desperation starting to creep into her voice.

The party turned the room inside out trying to find any hint of the talisman without any results. Morrigan was growing more frustrated by the minute. When they searched the room from top to bottom and still found nothing the witch cried out, "'Tis not here! The damn thing is not here!"

"I have a feeling we've been duped." Zevran remarked, "Perhaps it would be best to leave this place."

"Who would want to do such a thing?" Morrigan asked, still fuming.

"Probably the same people who were responsible for the dragon attack." Alistair replied.

"We're not going to find anything here. We should go while we still can." Leliana said.

The group hurried back down the tunnel to the mouth of the cave, a lump forming in the throat of the witch as they passed by the pile of rubble were the west passage had been. They exited the cave and found themselves back out in the bright sunlight, all of them having to shield their eyes momentarily after being in the darkened cave for so long. "It's about time. I was starting to get impatient." a voice said from somewhere above them.

The party turned to see two men on horseback, one older man wearing a red robe, the other wore a hooded black robe that concealed his face from view. They were accompanied by eight bowman perched atop the rocks above the shoreline. All of the archers with their weapons drawn and at the ready, the deadly arrows aimed at each member of the group below.

"Twas a trap!" the witch exclaimed, realizing too late.

"How very astute of you, my dear." The older man said.

"Why? Why lure us from Highever. What possibly have you to gain?"

"There have been too many wrongs allowed. We intend to correct them. Starting with The Warden's maleficar whore and the weak king who permitted this blasphemy."

Morrigan's only response was a slight nod to the others in the party. With a quick motion, she thrust out her hand towards the men above them and a bright flash burst forth, stunning and blinding their would-be assailants and causing their horses to rear back in panic. A few archers managed to get a shot off, though their blurred vision caused them to miss badly and the arrows harmlessly bounced off the rocky shore. The group used the opportunity to scramble away from the cavern's mouth and up the rocky ledge.

"After them! They must not be allowed to escape!" the man in the red robe shouted.

The bowmen dropped their bows, drew their blades, and began to give chase to Morrigan and the others who had already ducked into the thick scrub that ran along the shoreline. The two men on horseback listened as a loud roar erupted from somewhere in the bush, followed by the blood curdling scream of a man dying a gruesome death. Soon the cries of another man could be heard, this one from a completely different direction, then another. And so it continued as each of the party members stalked the soldiers through the dense underbrush and killed them off, one by one.

When all the soldiers had been dispatched, the group reappeared from the scrub and stood in front of the two men on horseback. "Twas you that was responsible for the dragon." Morrigan said, "'Tis your fault The Warden lies badly wounded. I shall see you dead for that."

The witch's body began to crackle and pop and magical energy surged around her as she charged her spell. Both men spurred their steeds into a gallop in a bid to flee the scene as quickly as possible.

Morrigan flung forth bolts of magical lightning that hissed as they arced through the air and struck a tree, causing it to fall over directly in the path of the two escaping men. The man with the red robe fell off his horse as the beast reared back trying to avoid the fallen tree and then ran off into the brush, leaving the older man crawling across the ground gasping for air. The man in the black robe kicked his feet into his steed's side and with a mighty jump, beast and man cleared the trunk and disappeared into the brush beyond.

Rolling onto his back, the red robed man saw the witch and party approaching him. "You will tell me your purpose!" Morrigan exclaimed to him, drawing her blade and placing it's keen edge against his neck.

"My purpose?" the man laughed, "My purpose was to kill you and the king. Obviously, I failed in that."

"Who would want us dead? Tell me!" She yelled at the man that cowered beneath her.

"You can't stop it, you know." he replied, "You can kill me but it's already too late. Our reach goes farther than you could imagine. We're everywhere."

"How did you know we would be here? Who told you?" the witch demanded.

"You made quite a scene when you left Highever. All of northern Ferelden knew you had departed from the castle. It was easy enough to follow you here."

"So you conjure up a phantom talisman knowing full well I would come after it."

The only response the man offered was a low chuckle that slowly turned into a full laugh. With one quick movement, the man pulled out a dagger he had hidden in the sleeve of his robe and lunged at Morrigan. The witch swung her blade and separated the man's head from his shoulders in one clean slice. The man's body fell backwards, limp and lifeless.

"He did that on purpose. He knew you'd kill him." Alistair noted.

"Dead men tell no secrets." the elf agreed.

"My experiences would lead me to think otherwise." Morrigan said, "Dead men tell the best secrets. The challenge lies in extracting them."

"We should get back to Highever. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of our dark stranger and whoever is behind this might try to do something to Dwemer." Leliana suggested.

"Agreed." said the witch as she wiped the blood from her blade on the dead man's carcass and placed it in it's sheath against her right waist.

"You're starting to get pretty good with one of those." Alistair said as he pointed to the sword at her side.

"Dwemer has been teaching me for the past few months. He seems to think I've a natural talent for killing things."

"I would hardly be one to disagree with him."

The party made their way back to Highever as quickly as they could given the rough terrain. Clumps of scrub and uneven ground for much of the way made the going rough and slow. They continued on through the night, not bothering to make camp. By moonlight they trudged through the underbrush, until, just as the sun was starting to rise in the east, the tops of the towers at Castle Cousland became visible in the distance.

If Morrigan hadn't been carrying her own pack for once, she would have taken her bird form and rushed ahead to the castle. Instead she stayed with the others as they slowly walked back to the castle, their pace being much slower than she would have preferred. The sun was completely risen as the group passed the main gates to the castle, it was then that Morrigan could wait no longer and broke into a run, rapidly climbing the courtyard stairs, and going through the doors into the castle.

Some of the guards cast curious glances at her as she hurried through the castle corridors on her way to her private chambers. Reaching the door, the flung it open and rushed inside only to discover the room was empty. Everything was just as it was before she left except the fact that The Warden was not in the bed. He wasn't anywhere in the room at all.

Morrigan turned and ran back out the door. "Where is he?" she asked the first guard she came across in a cold, cutting tone.

"H..He left, my lady." was the guard's nervous answer, almost as if he was surprised by her question.

"Left? With whom?"

"You don't remember?"

"Out with it. With whom did he leave?" the witch demanded

"You..." the guard replied, his face scrunched up in confusion, "He left with you."

"Have you been drinking? He most certainly did not leave with me. I've been gone for the past two days."

"I swear, that's what I saw. The other guards saw it, too."

Morrigan turned and walked down the corridor, headed for the teyrn's study. On the way she passed through the castle foyer just as the rest of the group was making it inside. Seeing her hurry down the hallway, and after a few puzzled looks were exchanged, they in turn followed.

Grabbing the small, ring-shaped handle, Morrigan opened the door to the study and went inside. "Yes, of course. Come right on in." Fergus said in a sarcastic tone as the witch stormed up to his desk.

"He's gone." the witch informed as the rest of the group filed into the room.

"I know he's gone. He left with you, remember?" the teyrn replied.

"He did no such thing. I've not even been here."

"It seems there is an impostor on the loose. And quite a competent one, as well." the elf noted.

"Who could pull off such a convincing act? You heard the guards, they all swore up and down that it was Morrigan." Alistair said.

"The demon!" Leliana exclaimed as she snapped her fingers.

"What demon?" Morrigan asked, folding her arms.

"When we went after the blood mages it was because they had acquired a gem which served as a prison for a demon." The bard began to explain, "We were not in time to prevent them from freeing it and the creature was long gone by the time we arrived. We were unaware of even what form of demon it was. Until now, that is."

"A succubus." Morrigan concurred with a nod, "It does seem to make sense."

"Working with blood mages...disgusting." Alistair said, "Whoever these people are, their not as righteous as they want us to think."

"Who would send a desire demon after The Warden?" Alistair wondered aloud.

"And better still, who would be capable of controlling such a creature?" Zevran added.

"How did he not know twas not I?" Morrigan asked, "His infernal connection to me should have told him as much."

"Maybe the demon can block it somehow. Who knows?" Leliana said with a shrug.

"We must go after him." Morrigan declared.

"Do you think that's wise? After all, we did get ambushed outside the cave. Someone is definitely trying to kill us and I don't think they'll stop until they've succeeded." the king remarked.

"You were attacked?" Fergus asked, shocked by the news, "Who would do something like that?"

"We don't know, but we think it might be the same people who were responsible for the dragon attack." the king answered. "Either way, we need to find out who these people are and what they're after. Leliana, Zevran, and I will go search for Dwemer while you keep digging here."

"And what of me?" the witch snapped, "If your intent is to leave me behind, you had better think again."

"Morrigan, I know you want to find him more than anybody. But it probably won't be safe. Don't you think a woman in your condition..."

"My _condition_ is none of your concern, Alistair" the witch blurted out, interrupting the king.

The teyrn raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Condition...? What condition?" he asked.

"Oh...Morrigan is pregnant." Lelaina informed flatly, as if it was old news to the bard.

"Leliana!" Morrigan shouted, "Is there no one you will not tell my secrets to?"

"What secret?" the bard quipped, "Everybody knows."

"Because _you told them_!" the witch fumed, casting a glare at Leliana.

"Well, perhaps the king is right..." Fergus said.

"Nonsense." Morrigan huffed, "He is _my_ husband and _I_ shall lead the search for him. Am I understood?"

"But we don't even know where to start looking." Alistair added, "It could takes days."

"He is The Grey Warden. Do you not think people would have noticed him if he were to leave the castle? Surely some of them saw which way he went."

Looking at the teyrn Morrigan asked, "I trust you will care for Seth in my absence?"

"Don't I always?" Fergus answered with a smile, "He'll be fine. He's with the nanny now. So go find that brother of mine and get to the bottom of this."

* * *

"You still have no idea where we're going?" The Warden asked the demon-witch, still completely oblivious to her true identity. "We've been heading west for a full day. What could possibly be out here in this forsaken place?"

"As I have stated before, something calls to me from somewhere...out there." the demon-witch replied, gesturing off to the horizon, "I am unsure of its origin, but it has been calling to me for some time, compelling me to come find it."

"And this came from the strange dreams you've been having?"

"Yes. I fear something terrible will happen, lest we intervene. I know not what, but its impact shall reach to all of Ferelden. 'Tis why we must hurry."

"I don't pretend to understand all the things you see, but we don't have a clue what this thing is. How are you even sure that we can help?"

"Whoever seeks me out would not have gone through the trouble of doing so were there no way to affect the outcome."

"Alright, I'll give you that." The Warden said, "But something still feels wrong about this."

The false witch turned and faced The Warden, her golden eyes staring straight into his, "Do you not trust me?" she asked.

"Of course I trust you." he groaned in response.

"Then believe me when I say to you that a grave threat is coming." she said as she caressed his face lightly with her hand, "Our answers lie somewhere beyond the horizon. In order to find them I shall need your complete faith. Do I have it?"

"You know you do."

"Then we shall have no more trivial discussions over the matter. You shall have your answers at the same time I have mine."

The pair traveled on, along the northern coast of Ferelden and the shores of the Waking Sea. This was a particularly remote region of the country as the rocky shore and sandy ground held little to offer any potential settlers. Bandits would sometimes use the area to hide, but seldom stayed long under the scorching hot sun of the day and the freezing winds that blew from the sea at night. Mostly the region was barren and empty.

As much as he wanted to, The Warden was unable to make sense of the situation. But that really didn't bother him as much as it should have. Not being a mage himself, he was accustomed to not understanding many of the things Morrigan did. And, as a result, rarely questioned them, thinking that it was enough that she understood.

His connection to the witch wasn't any more revealing, either, as the past couple of days it hadn't been as strong as it normally was. Usually it was prevalent within him and he was aware of it at all times. But now, the connection felt weak and out of focus. The beacon had been known to fluctuate from time to time and The Warden reasoned that this was merely one of those times. He was confident that his connection would return to full strength in a day or two, just as it always did.

As the sun began to hide itself away again for the night, the pair spotted a small wooden boat that appeared to have been abandoned along the shore some time ago, the oars still resting in their places inside. "Our destination lies somewhere out at sea, I am sure of it. We shall need to use this boat to get there." the demon-witch said.

"This rickety thing? I don't even think it'll float." The Warden replied, seriously doubting the small vessel's sea worthiness.

"Do you see any other means we can use to get where we need?" the demon asked as she hopped over the side and into the boat, "Fear not, my magic shall see that it remains afloat."

"If you say so..." The Warden said, and with a large grunt he pushed against the bow of the boat and forced it back into the water; a place it had not been in a long time. Almost immediately, trickles of water began to invade the inside, forming puddles on the floor of the boat. The demon waved her hand across the vessel and it began to glow slightly. Within seconds the water stopped seeping in from the many tiny cracks in the wood. Soon, even the floor of the vessel was completely dry.

When the boat was far enough out into the water, The Warden placed his hands on the side and lifted himself into the boat with one quick jump. Sitting in the middle, he grabbed an oar by the handle with each hand and prepared to start rowing.

"That will not be necessary, my love." the demon-witch said, "My magic can get us there far quicker than your arms, strong though they might be. Besides, it would make little sense to have you facing what lies ahead in an exhausted state."

And, as if of its own accord, the boat began to move by itself. It backed away slowly from the shore before turning around and heading out to the open sea at a smooth steady pace. They sailed out of view and into the night propelled by the demon's power. Unknown to The Warden, however, on an island far out in the Waking Sea, there was a man who was waiting to meet him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part IX**

The few remaining people still camped outside the castle gates were all making ready to leave since King Alistair had lifted the order forcing them to stay. There weren't nearly as many witnesses to question as there had been, still however, some did see The Warden and his companion as they left the castle and headed northwest, towards the coast. Unfortunately, that was all any of them had seen and could offer no other clues to The Warden's intended destination.

The witch thought it best not to reveal her identity to the people in the camp, afraid they might mistake her for the impostor. So Morrigan assumed bird-form and floated above Leliana and Zevran while they walked through what was left of the encampment, the evidence of the recent attack still readily visible. Scorch marks and burned tents still littered the ground and a foul smell hung in the air. The smell of burnt flesh. It would be a long time before the physical scars from the attack faded from view, and longer still for the mental ones.

Alistair elected to remain behind, after much convincing on the part of his captain of the guard, who felt it was unwise for the king to venture from the safety of the castle when his life was at risk. The king reluctantly agreed, unable to say no as he stood transfixed by her big blue eyes. The captain offered no such objections to the witch's participation, however.

After a few hours, the party came to Ferelden's northern coast along the Waking Sea. Zevran led them as they followed the shoreline westward into the desolate lands. The elf was a skilled tracker of men, having used such skills on numerous occasions to hunt his quarry. He was sure The Warden and the demon passed this way as there were two sets of footprints clearly visible in the rocky and sandy ground.

The witch had resumed her human form and, as was her custom, trailed at the back of the group, apart from the others. Even though she felt welcome in their midst, she still felt out of place and uncomfortable around them. They were The Warden's friends, and if it wasn't for him, she would probably never have the need to speak with any of them. They were her friends only by association, Morrigan thought. A thought that was both comforting and disturbing to her.

The daylight was waning and soon the party would break for camp, something the witch was almost looking forward to. Her back had been hurting her all day, the muscles cramping up into tight spasms that got stronger as the day progressed. As much as she desired to keep searching for The Warden, Morrigan was finding each step was becoming more painful than the last.

When the time finally came to camp for the evening, it took the witch far longer than normal to erect her tent, not ever being totally successful at it. The pain was radiating around from her back to her stomach, causing her to shake and sweat profusely. She cursed herself beneath her breath as her hands fumbled about and refused to cooperate. Leliana watched as Morrigan struggled with her tent, and for a long time said and did nothing. After a while of watching the witch, who was in obvious discomfort, the bard's goodhearted nature won out over her fear of Morrigan's reprisal and she went over to the witch's spot, which, as usual, was several yards from were the others had set their tents up.

"You don't look so good. Are you feeling alright?" Leliana asked meekly.

The witch looked up from her task, saying with a scowl, "I am f..." before being cut off by another spasm that caused her to wince in pain.

"You are most definitely not fine." the bard retorted, "Something is hurting you."

After the wave of pain had faded and Morrigan was able to reply, she said, "Your concern is not needed. I will be fine."

"Still, you should let me help you with this..." the bard said as she reached for Morrigan's tent in an attempt to assist.

"I do not need nor desire your help. I am not suffering from some serious malady and in need of your pity. I am quite capable of taking care of my own needs." the witch shot back.

"Everyone needs help sometime, Morrigan. Even you." the bard said as she turned to walk away, "But you have far too much pride to ask. That's not being strong, that's being silly."

The witch groaned and rolled her eyes. "Cramps." she said.

"What?" Leliana asked as she turned back around.

"It feels like...cramps. Only stronger and focused in my lower back. Not unlike the pains of labor."

"That can't be good." the bard replied, "We should get you back to Highever as soon as possible."

"'Tis nothing. I've overexerted myself and nothing more. I had these same episodes while carrying Seth. A night of rest and I shall be fine."

"At least let me help you with your tent."

"Very well, as you wish." the witch relented begrudgingly, "However, do not expect me to make a habit of accepting your tokens of generosity."

"I won't." Leliana said as she knelt down and began the task of fixing Morrigan's crumpled and twisted mess.

"And, Leliana..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you." the witch said earnestly.

"You're Welcome." replied Leliana as a smile crept across her face.

* * *

Captain Dyana was out in the village of Highever questioning some of the townsfolk and trying to find any clues she could that would lead her to whomever was responsible for the dragon's attack. The captain had ventured into the village many times before over the course of the past few days and talked to many people, all without success. Still, the king had charged her with solving the mystery and she was determined not to give up until she had done exactly that.

It seemed that whoever it was that attracted the beast was very good at covering their tracks, because other than the egg, no other trace of the culprits existed. Dyana interrogated anyone she thought might have information about these people. But every lead she followed came up empty. She was no closer to finding the guilty party then when she first started, and she was running out of places to look.

"The Maker has a true plan for each of his children." a booming voice called out, getting the captain's attention as she swung her head about to face the source.

"These troubled times are a warning from him that he is displeased that his children have all gone astray from his true teachings." said a main wearing a red robe. He stood atop a wooden crate and addressed a crowd of people that was starting to gather before him.

"The Maker shall guide us and protect us, but only if we heed his warnings. The Orlisians, the Blight, the dragon, these were all signs of his displeasure." the man continued while the crowd continued to grow, "The Chantry has failed you. For was it not them who permitted the maleficar to live unpunished? Her evil blood magic tainting and defiling the heroic Grey Warden. Her very existence is a sacrilege!"

The people in the gathering were starting to become restless, most treated the robed figure as a deluded man and heckled him, but others among them would shout out words of agreement. There were many who were uncomfortable with Morrigan. She came from a strange place and wielded strange powers beyond their meager understandings. And by her own admission, she was neither a member of the Circle of Magi nor a follower of the Chantry. They viewed her as a threat to their faith.

"For those of you that seek the Maker's true path, you are not alone. There are those who feel as you do...Those who would accept you. Come and speak with me and I will tell you about the Order of Bohlen. Come and learn the _truth_." the robed man finished as he stepped down from the crate.

The crowd began to disperse, save for several who had decided to approach the man and inquire about the order. Dyana grabbed the arm of a man who was leaving the scene, "Who is that person?"

The man looked down at the captain's hand and was about to utter something distasteful to her when he noticed the royal seal on her breastplate. Instead, he said with a suddenly nervous voice, "That's the Order of Bohlen. They're just a bunch of crazies trying to stir things up."

"What do you know about them?"

"Not much, only that they're starting to sprout up in towns all across Ferelden. I just got back from Amaranthine last week and there was one of them there, too. He was spouting the same crap as this guy."

Releasing the man's arm, the captain said, "Thank you for your time." She walked over to the man in the red robe who was busy talking to several people that were apparently interested in the order. Behind him was another man in a red robe, only he was much larger. The second man was well muscled and wore armor beneath his robe. The captain wondered why the smaller man would need such an imposing bodyguard.

"I have some questions I need to ask you." The captain said as she approached the man.

After politely excusing himself from the others, he turned to Dyana. "How can I help you, captain?" he asked.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, You are Dyana, captain of the king's royal guard. You are well known in Ferelden."

"I was not aware of that." Dyana responded calmly.

"Please...forgive my rudeness. I am Altavar, one of the brothers in the order." the man said with a slight bow, "And to what do we owe the honor of having such a distinguished visitor?"

"I need to know about your order."

"Ah. I was hoping you'd ask that."

"Why is that?"

"It's no secret you hold no fondness for The Warden's maleficar bride. And after all, who could blame you? You, the captain of the royal guard, whose greatness is overshadowed by that unworthy and evil creature. You should be the most respected woman in Ferelden, not her. Those foolish peasants place her on a pedestal so that she may mock them from above. But you know better. You see her for what she really is: A stain on the soul of Ferelden. A stain that must be cleansed."

"I...I..." Dyana stammered, searching for the words, "I want to know more."

"Come with me." the man said as he placed his arm around her shoulder and ushered her inside the stone building behind them. "We have much to talk about, you and I."

* * *

"Awaken, my love." the demon-witch said as her hand squeezed The Warden's shoulder, "We've arrived."

The Warden and the demon had sailed all night across the dark waters of the Waking Sea and were now many miles from shore. As the early morning sun climbed over the horizon, The Warden was able to make out a large rocky island that lay just ahead. Its rocky coast covered in spots by clumps of thick vegetation. A small range of mountains rose near the middle of the isle, their peaks disappearing into the mist above. The boat, still moving by magic, was heading straight for a short stretch of beach inside a sandy cove.

"How long was I out?" he asked as he sat up in the boat, rubbing his eyes.

"Several hours. 'Tis good that you were able to rest, I feel you shall need it." she replied, standing in the center of the ragged vessel, controlling its movements.

"I can think of exactly what to do with all this pent up energy." he said as he reached around her waist and pulled her to his lap.

"Dwemer!" she let out with a squeal, taken by surprise, "Stop acting so juvenile. I have to steer the boat."

"Juvenile, huh?" he asked while his mouth hovered close to her full and inviting lips.

"Yes, juvenile." she repeated as pushed herself off and stood from his lap, "Now leave me be. I've work to do."

"Fine. But when you least suspect it, that's when I'll pounce." he said with a mischievous grin. "And then you'll be all mine."

"Impossible man." the demon-witch huffed as she resumed her control of the craft and steered it towards the beach.

When the boat finally neared the shore, The Warden hopped over the side and dragged the boat onto the beach. When the boat came to a halt, the false witch hopped out onto the sand. She spent a few minutes looking around, as if to get her bearings. "We must go further into the interior of this island. What we seek lies there." she said.

But before the pair had much of a chance to venture very far, five large men, all clad in red robes, appeared suddenly from the thick foliage. The Warden stepped in front of the false witch and reached over his shoulders to draw his blades.

"Stay your blade!" shouted one of the men said as he held out his hand, "We mean no harm, Warden. We've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" The Warden asked, "Who are you?"

"That will take some explaining. Please, follow me. We have little time and there is much to tell."

The red robed men turned and headed back along a thin trail through the brush. The Warden and the demon witch followed close behind. The trail wound it's way through the dense scrub before straightening out once the group had proceeded further inland and the forest gave way to a lush field with rolling meadows. In the distance sat an ancient temple, its stone spires still reaching for the clear sky even though its walls began to crack and crumble long ago.

"What is this place?" The Warden asked.

"Our last refuge." The red robed man replied.

* * *

The thick, warm bedroll was placed neatly in the center of the floor and circled with many lit candles. Two naked forms lie intertwined upon it, ravaging each other in the deep throes of passion. The Warden's lips trailed down her neck, to her breasts, cupping and pleasuring them with his skilled hands and mouth. The witch writhed in pleasure beneath him, unable to contain the small gasps and groans that escaped her as his mouth found its way to her flat stomach, and continued still lower.

Morrigan watched from the shadows, unable to step into the light as if something were holding her back. Desperately she struggled against invisible shackles that held her in place while she was forced to watch the demon and her unwitting warden entangle in love's embrace.

"Dwemer! No!" she screamed as hard as she could, yet no sound would come. "'Tis not me!" she continued to plead in anguish.

There was nothing Morrigan could do. The doppelganger had her warden's complete attention and she wasn't letting it go. With cold eyes the creature looked back at Morrigan and said, "He's mine now."

"No!" the witch screamed in silence. "You cannot have him! Dwemer, please!"

"It's your own fault. This is what you get." said another voice.

The witched turned towards the sound and was frozen in her tracks when she was met by the face of the young warden, Silas. "_You killed me!_" he yelled.

"No!" Morrigan screamed, startled awake in her bedroll, gasping and sweat pouring off of her. Her breathing was rapid and her heart pound fast and hard within her. The witch sat up and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on top.

With the images of the nightmare still fresh in her mind, the witch's eyes drifted to the empty spot beside her. She was alone. For most of her life, Morrigan had slept alone, never caring to share her bed with another. After being with The Warden, however, she had grown accustomed to having someone beside her each night. It had become natural to her. And now that he wasn't there, the witch found the solitude unnerving. A bitter sting made worse by the fact that her thoughts constantly dwell on him.

The first rays of dawn pierced the small slit in the tent's opening and with a grumble, Morrigan climbed out of her bedroll. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, and after preparing herself for another long day of travel, tossed back the opening to the tent and exited, making her way to the pile of smoldering ash that had been the group's campfire the previous night. Morrigan reached for a slender stick beside the fire pit and began stirring the ashes. And with a few puffs of breath from the witch, the fire popped back to life.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" she heard Leliana ask from behind.

"I am much better." Morrigan replied, her focus still on the fire.

Leliana approached the fire and crouched down beside it, next to the witch. She held her hands out to the flames allowing them to warm her frigid hands. "You know, I've been thinking..." she said, staring into the flames, "Silas might have been the one who tricked us."

"The same thought had occurred to me as well." Morrigan agreed, "I believe twas his job to lure us away so that the demon could ensnare The Warden in her magical charms."

"What would make him do such a thing?"

"Who can say. Silas was young and foolish. Twas my mistake that led to his death and is also why The Warden lies in the arms of another. 'Tis all that matters to me."

"You don't think Dwemer would...?" Leliana asked with a gasp.

"I do not have time to consider what might be, only what is." Morrigan replied in a cutting tone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything." Leliana said apologetically. "It's just, I thought that if he thinks it really is you..."

The witch stood up, turned and headed back to her tent, saying, "In the future, I trust you will keep such insights to yourself." Leaving the bard stunned and with the distinct feeling that she had stuffed her foot very deep into her mouth.

Soon, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan broke camp and resumed their search for The Warden. It looked to be another sunny day, which made Zevran's job of tracking that much easier. The elf had no problems following the trail that The Warden and the demon-witch left. They continued west along the coast, battling the fierce sun that beat down from overhead and the brutal winds that blew in from the sea, forcing sand and small rocks to creep into every crevice of their clothing.

For many hours the group traveled in silence. Occasionally, the bard would strike up a brief conversation with Zevran, but the elf was usually too focused on his quarry to be able to chat for long, and their talks would never last more than a few minutes. Meanwhile, Morrigan strolled behind the others, fuming internally over what the demon could be doing with her warden. The thoughts were driving her insane. Each time she tried to sweep them from her mind, they forced their way back in. She hoped upon hope that maybe something had interrupted them, or that they haven't had the chance altogether, as so often was the case with she and The Warden. In her heart, the witch knew that was the only prayer she had.

"Wait!" Zevran shouted. "There's something here." he said as he studied the ground.

"What have you found?" Morrigan asked as she hurried towards the elf.

"The trail ends here. Beyond this point there are no footprints. However, someone pushed something into the water. And by the look of it, I'm inclined to think it was a small boat."

"A boat? That cannot be right. Look again."

"I know what I see. There is only one way to interpret it."

"But that leaves us with no way to follow them..."

"Can't you just turn into a fish or something and swim after them?" the elf asked.

"No, I cannot." Morrigan huffed, "It takes weeks of intense concentration and study for me to learn a new form. We haven't the time."

The witch cast her icy glare out to the open sea. Out there, somewhere, was her warden. And whatever the demon's plans were, they didn't include being followed. Rage seethed through Morrigan and she clenched her fists tightly at her side. "You fucking cunt." she muttered under her breath.

* * *

The king and teyrn were in the castle study, going over what they were able to find out about who was responsible for the attack. For the past four days, Fergus had his men scouring the countryside looking for any evidence they could find. And day after day his men would return empty handed. They were no closer to revealing the identities of the men who left the dragon egg. Frustration was starting to set in for both men, having run out of options.

The study door burst open and Dyana came walking in. Alistair watched intently as her hair flowed and her breasts bounced while she walked closer to the men. "What do you have to report?" he asked the captain.

"I regret to inform you that I have yet to find the guilty party, your majesty." the captain answered with a bow.

"Well, we have to keep looking. They can't just have vanished. Someone has to know something. Those people deserve justice." Alistair said, pounding his fist on the desk for emphasis.

"And we'll also know who it is that wants you dead." the teyrn added.

"Yeah, and then there's that. I had almost forgotten that I someone was trying to kill me. Thank you for reminding me." the king returned with pseudo-gratitude.

"The sooner we find out who your dark figure and his accomplice in the red robes were, the sooner we'll get to the bottom of this." Fergus said.

"Red robes?" The captain asked the king with a puzzled look on her face, "You never mentioned anything like that to me."

"I didn't think what he was wearing was important at the time. Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, its nothing." the captain replied, shaking her head.

"Very well, captain, that will be all."

Alistair's eyes once more trailed the lovely young captain as she strolled from the room. Fergus grinned at the king actions, "You haven't asked her yet, have you?" he asked.

"Asked her what?"

"Why, to dinner, of course."

"W..what?" Alistair stammered, "That's ridiculous. Why would I do that?"

"Because, you are obviously attracted to her, and in case you haven't noticed, she's waiting for you to ask." the teyrn replied.

"I can't do that. It would be inappropriate. She's my captain, after all." Alistair said, before pausing for a minute, deep in thought. "You really think she'd say yes if I asked?"

"You never know until you try."


	10. Chapter 10

**Part X**

The Warden and the demon-witch followed the red clad figures into the ancient temple. Up cracked steps and along a stone walkway they went, the bricks containing many chips and some weeds growing in between, until they stood before a set of large metal doors that were cast with ornate images of long-dead gods and heroes doing battle with ancient demons. The lead member of the group pulled open the door and gestured The Warden and his companion inside.

"Master Denolian waits for you inside." he said with a bow.

After walking through the doorway, The Warden found himself standing in a large worship hall of some sort. It was a long and narrow room with many rows of pews separated by an aisle covered in lush velvet carpet. Many hundreds of candles lit the room, some set in places against the wall, while others hung overhead in extravagant chandeliers. The smell of many different spices and incense filled the air, their strong fragrances permeating everything around. At the far end of the room was a tall podium that sat behind a large black marble altar that was trimmed with gold and silver markings. Standing near the pulpit was a man wearing a fine white robe inlaid with religious and ceremonial markings. The man, hearing The Warden and demon's entrance, raised his head towards the sound.

The glint of a smile could be seen beneath the hood of the man's robe. With smooth and gracious steps, he climbed down from the podium and stood in front of it as The Warden approached him.

"Welcome, Warden." the man said, "I am Denolian, the high priest of this temple. I've been waiting for you."

"I know this place." the demon-witch noted, "Twas you that called to me in my dreams."

"I prayed the Maker would guide you here, and He has. You no doubt have many questions. All will be answered in good time, I assure you." Denolian replied, "Unfortunately, however, there is a pressing matter that requires my attention. Please, be our guests for the night and I will explain everything over dinner this evening."

The false Morrigan leaned her mouth close to The Warden's ear and whispered, "Lest the idea of spending another night in a cramped boat appeals to you, I suggest you accept his hospitality."

"It's agreed, then." The Warden said, "We'll be your guests."

"Excellent!" Denolian exclaimed, "I'll have Eldrich show you to your quarters."

The priest pulled a small bell from his robe sleeve and rang it; the high pitched dinging sounds reverberated clearly off the stone walls. The large door swung open once again and the man who first showed the pair in, reappeared. "Yes, your grace?" the man asked.

"Eldrich, take The Warden and his lovely companion to their quarters for the night."

"Certainly, your grace." Eldrich replied with a deep bow, "If you'll please follow me, my lord." he said to The Warden as he head for the doorway.

The trio walked along the stone pathway that wound through the temple compound on the way to one of the other structures. The large temple complex contained no less than five buildings, from what The Warden could see, the worship hall being the largest. Eldrich was leading them to one of the smaller structures on the eastern end of the grounds.

"What is this place?" The Warden asked as they walked.

"This temple is very old...abandoned long ago by an ancient and foreign people. Their language is strange to us and we don't know who they were or even what they called this place." Eldrich answered, "But we call it 'The Maker's Palace'."

"That's an odd name. Why do you call it that?" The Warden inquired, slightly puzzled.

"What else would you call the place where the Maker will appear when he returns?"

"Why would he return here?"

"The Maker summoned Master Denolian to this island and told him it would be so. We do not question why."

"How quaint. Even this far from the shores of Ferelden do we yet see blind faith." the demon said in a condescending tone.

"My faith has served me well, my lady." Elrich replied.

They entered the smaller building, which had the same strange symbols and markings carved into its stone as the other structures. Its walls were made of the same black marble as the temple and the torchlight reflected off the smooth stone. After walking down a short corridor, they came to a door.

"He we are." Eldrich said as he opened the door, "Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. You may venture to any part of the temple you desire, but I strongly suggest you do not go far into the forest beyond. Many an unwary brother found himself lost amid its tangled clutches, never to be seen again."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." The Warden said, passing through the doorway and entering the room. The demon-witch followed.

"If you need anything, please, don't hesitate to ask." Eldrich offered, "I'll come get you when dinner is ready this evening." he finished with a bow, turned, and left back down the corridor and out of the building.

Without saying a word, The Warden grabbed his backpack and removed it from his shoulders, laying it down in the center of the plain but clean looking bed and then turned to head back out the door.

"And just where do you think you are off to?" the false Morrigan asked in an annoyed voice, hands on her hips.

"I'm going to take a look around." came The Warden's reply.

"Like hell you are." the demon-witch fumed, "Our first chance to be alone since we wed and you would squander it on sight seeing?"

"I need to find out all I can about this place and these people before we meet with Denolian tonight."

"You shall have plenty of time for that later." the demon said as she moved her body dangerously close to his, "But now 'tis time for _you_ and _I_ and something we've not done since before we were married."

Unable to put up much of a resistance to the soft kisses she placed along his neck and chin, The Warden found himself having a difficult time putting a thought together in order to respond. Finally, after much focus and effort, he was able to say, "Morrigan...wait. I can't do this right now." And he started back towards the door.

"Are you telling me you are saying no to _these_?" the demon-witch asked as she pulled her top open allowing her breasts to fall out and freezing him once more in his tracks.

"You don't play fair." he said, "...but I can't."

"What reason could you possibly have?" the demon hissed, obviously very aggravated.

"Because Denolian is hiding something. I can feel it. I have to find out what he's up to. If I don't, it's going to eat at me and be a distraction."

"And what cause have you to think this?"

"None really. It's just a gut feeling." The Warden answered as he held her soft hands within his and gazed into her golden eyes, "It's crazy, I know. But I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right here."

The demon sighed and rolled her eyes, "Fine. Go and search this place from top to bottom. And when you've discovered nothing, you shall return to me and we will speak no more of this foolishness."

He smiled at her. "Thank you." he said as he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss against her cheek. And, with a turn, he was through the door, into the corridor, and gone.

* * *

Morrigan, Leliana, and Zevran searched the area by the shore for anything that could be used to float them out to sea and after The Warden. But there was nothing of use to be found. What deadwood lay on the shore was either too small or too gnobbled and crooked to be of help. The small bushes and trees along the coastline were scraggly, wiry, and not fit to be made into neither boat nor raft. The trio had only one option left: turning back.

The only way they could follow The Warden now was by boat. The closest boat available to them were those of Alistair's royal navy that were docked in Amaranthine. It would take at least a day to make the trip from Highever, where they would have to go first in order to get Alistair's royal seal, thereby granting passage aboard his ships, and still at least another two days sailing. And that was if the winds held, otherwise it could take far longer still.

That was at least four or more days they would lose. By that time, Morrigan feared, The Warden's trail may go cold and she would never be able to find him. To avoid that possibility, Morrigan hatched a plan of her own, a plan that carried great risk, but if successful, could greatly aid in her search. The witch planned to use the Orbs of Arastani to try to contact The Warden. She hoped she wouldn't be contacting legions of darkspawn as well.

The trio safely made their way back to Castle Cousland, and, judging from the looks on their faces, both Alistair and Fergus knew what the outcome of their search had been. Zevran and Leliana stopped to talk to the king and teyrn who met the party as they came inside the castle. Morrigan chose instead to quietly head to her chambers without saying a word. She was exhausted, the stress and uncertainty were starting to take a heavy toll on her. And, if that wasn't bad enough, her back had started hurting again.

Upon arriving at her and The Warden's private apartment, she cast her pack aside, leaving it in the middle of the floor where it landed, and plopped down on the bed. The witch barely had the strength to remove her boots, which she tossed to the side. A loud sigh escaped her as she lay back against the soft pillows, the first comfort she'd had in days.

Morrigan tried her best to lay still and relax, attempting to ease the painful spasms in her back and stomach by willpower alone. For a long time, her body refused to cooperate, and instead of subsiding, the pain became steadily worse. The witch's hands dug into the mattress with each wave that washed through her, sweat starting to bead on her forehead. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity of agony, the pain began to fade and her muscles released their tight grip. Morrigan, totally drained, fell fast asleep.

Meanwhile, in the castle study, Alistair, Fergus, Zevran, and Leliana were all discussing the current status of the search for The Warden and what to do next, the king and teyrn having both been briefed on the situation. Alistair agreed to send his fastest ship, the Gryphon, which was anchored at Amaranthine. Even still, it would take a few days to reach the area and the coast of Ferelden was dotted with hundreds of small islands. Searching them would take months, at least. A courier was sent racing from the castle on horseback to alert the Gryphon to be ready to sail the instant Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan boarded the ship.

Many coastal maps were rolled out over then teyrn's desk as they debated over which places to start looking first. Figuring that the craft The Warden and the demon used was small, that should have limited the number of islands they could reach. And it would most assuredly rule out them being able to make it as far north as the Free Marches.

With those things in mind, those gathered in the study began combing the maps and looking at the islands within a few miles of the coast. Most of these were small and rocky places, little more than stone lumps poking up out of the sea. That narrowed their choices down considerably until only a few likely candidates remained. Of these, only one stood out: Dragon's Tail Island. It was an island that sailors had avoided for centuries, claiming it was a dark and haunted place, possessed by foul and evil creatures. It seemed like the perfect place to start their search.

"Where's Morrigan?" Alistair asked, "After all the fuss she made you'd figure she'd be here."

"I don't think she was feeling too good." Leliana replied, "I saw her head off towards her chambers."

"In my experience, women who are with child rarely feel good." Fergus added.

"Her back was bothering her before, it might be doing so again."

A look of concern came over the teyrn's face, looking to the bard he asked, "Her back was hurting her?"

Leliana nodded affirmative, "She said it was nothing."

"She would." Alistair said.

"That doesn't sound good. She's not far along enough for her back to hurt yet." Fergus remarked, "You might want to go check on her."

"_Me_ check on her?" The bard asked, miffed, "Why does it always have to be me?"

"Because this is a woman type of problem and more importantly, she'll yell at any of us." the teyrn answered.

"Fine. But she yells at me, too." Leliana said as she stormed out of the room.

The bard walked along the castle corridors, muttering to herself about how unfair the situation was, going around turns and up stairs until she was in front of Morrigan's door. Leliana stopped outside, preparing herself for the verbal onslaught that was about to ensue, as she slowly raised her hand to knock on the rough wooden door. But before she had the opportunity, a scream erupted from the other side.

"Morrigan!" Leliana exclaimed, "Are you alright?" she asked as she banged on the door with her fist. "Morrigan!" the bard continued to yell but still no reply came.

Leliana clasped the metal ring in her hand and pushed the door open. She raced inside to find Morrigan sitting up in her bed with a look of abject terror. The witch held both her hands before her face, staring at them in stunned silence. They were covered in blood. The witch's skirt as well as the blanket she lay on were drenched in blood as well. All of it Morrigan's.

"Oh, Morrigan...no..." Leliana gasped.

* * *

Faint rays of sunlight trickled through the tiny slits that served as windows, barely casting any light at all inside the dark temple in Highever. The robbed priests and brothers inside went about their daily routines as they scurried to and fro within the stone walls. The entire time a deep chant echoed through the temple that seemed to come from nowhere yet was everywhere at the same time. It was a variation of the Chant of Light. With a loud and whining creak, the front door opened, bathing the interior of the building in sunlight, and Dyana stepped inside.

The captain had come alone to see Altavar. There was something that was troubling her for the past day an she was having difficulty putting the matter to rest. From the description that the king gave, the red robed man who attacked him outside the small cave appeared to be a brother with the order. If it was true, that would mean the Order of Bohlen was behind everything, including the dragon attack. This information did not sit well with the captain at all, and she meant to get to the bottom of things.

"You lied to me Altavar!" she exclaimed when she burst into his private office near the rear of the building.

"My good captain, whatever do you mean?" he asked in an innocently soothing voice.

"The people who planted the dragon egg, they were members of the order, weren't they?" Dyana demanded.

The priest bowed his head with a deep sigh and said, "Then it's true. They _were_ members of the order, as much as it pains me to admit."

"I don't understand..."

"There are those among our order who tend to be a bit...overzealous at times. I feared that something like this could happen and always suspected that some of our own could be responsible, but I never spoke it aloud. I hoped that if I didn't acknowledge it, then it could not possibly be so. I was wrong."

"Tell me what's going on. The _truth_."

"Several of our younger members had shown for some time that they would like to take a more...active...part in the Maker's plan. They felt that by sending a message to The Warden on his wedding night, he might be persuaded to end his unholy folly with the maleficarum. At least that was the impression they gave me. I can't say for certain as they never made me privy to their plans. I do not know where or how they acquired the egg, as I have not seen them since the day before the wedding. I assumed the dragon killed them as well. Call it poetic justice."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" the captain asked.

"Though the Order of Bohlen is older even than the Chantry, our numbers are few. And because we acknowledge the one true Maker and were the first to follow the Andrastic teachings, the Chantry tolerates our presence, but just barely. Aylesa would love nothing more than to have a reason to banish us from Ferelden forever. I do not intend to give her one."

"More than two hundred people were killed by the dragon. You still should have come forward and said something. I can't just ignore that."

"Nor should you. But what can be done? Those responsible for this horrible crime are already dead. Do you plan on executing them a second time for good measure?"

"Well...I suppose not." The captain said as she thought about Altavar's response, weighing it in her mind.

"I trust you will still be attending this evening's services? We'll be hearing a sermon written by Master Denolian, himself. It's sure to be quite insightful." Altavar said with a polite smile.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything." Dyana replied slyly as she head out the door.

* * *

After spending the better part of the day exploring the temple compound, The Warden returned to his guest quarters, not having found anything out of the ordinary. And while he and the false Morrigan waited for Eldrich, The Warden pondered the strange feeling in his gut that he hadn't been able to shake since arriving on the island. He was certain things were not all what they seemed to be, but, as of yet, he lacked any evidence to support it. He hoped that their dinner with Denolian would be more enlightening.

"I suppose you find that particular wall more interesting than you do me?" the demon-witch asked, her question dripping with sarcasm.

"What?" The Warden said, his mind being pulled back from elsewhere.

"You've done nothing but sit there and stare at that wall. What could there be about it that would mesmerize you so?"

"Oh, sorry." he replied, apologetically, "I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"You said you didn't want to talk about it." he reminded her.

"_That_ again?" the demon huffed, folding her arms, "Surely you have better things to do with your time than waste it on trying to see things the are not there."

She moved over to where he sat and straddled his lap, setting all of her weight on him. She put her slender fingers against his chin and guided his gaze to hers. "For the first time in over a year, we are alone together. And this is how you would squander it?" she said as her lips crept closer to his.

"I'm...I'm sorry." he stammered, "That's not what I was trying to do."

"All shall be forgiven..." the false Morrigan purred in his ear, "But it will require a great deal off effort on your part. And I intend you to spend the entire evening working to make things right." she said as she reached her hand around behind her, between his legs and lightly cupped his loins in her hand "And this shall be the tool you'll use." she finished, gently squeezing before releasing her hand.

"I'm looking forward to it." he said as he leaned his mouth closer to hers. But before he could claim his prize, as usual, there came a knock at their door.

"Who is it?" The Warden called out with more than a little frustration in his voice.

"It's Eldrich, my lord. I've been sent to call you to dinner. Master Denolian waits for you in his private dining room." the man on the other side of the door said.

"It looks like Gregory will have to wait." he said to her, disappointed.

"Who?" the demon asked.

"What do you mean, 'who'?"

"Oh...of course..._Gregory_. How foolish of me." false Morrigan stumbled, sounding more confused than anything.

With a grumble, the demon lifted herself from The Warden's lap, allowing him to stand and open the door. Eldrich stood patiently in the corridor, waiting to escort the couple to dinner. They followed the robed brother as he led them to still another of the temple's buildings, this one housing the kitchen and dining hall for the temple faithful. In the back of the structure, secluded from watchful eyes, was Denolian's private dining room.

"I'm so glad you could make it." Denolian said as The Warden and demon walked into the room and joined him at the large round table in the middle. "I even have a small treat for you Warden. Please, enjoy." he said, pointing to one of the many plates that lie on the table. On the plate was a rolled up piece of flatbread, stuffed with meat.

"Merlan's tarts." The Warden said, instantly recognizing the dish. He turned to the demon-witch, intending to warn her only to find she already had bitten off half a tart, popping the rest into her mouth after finishing the first bite.

He watched her slowly chew the morsel, then swallow. "Those are quite good." she said after she finished and reached for another.

"Huh..." was all The Warden could say as he scrunched his eyebrows.

"You look like a man with something on your mind, Warden." the priest said with his velvet voice, "And I'm not talking about the food."

"You're very perceptive. Yes, there are some things that are bothering me."

"In my occupation, it pays to be observant. Tell me, what's on your mind."

"For starters, you can tell me what's _really_ going on here. Many of your members are well armored and carry weapons beneath their robes. And I can tell they've been trained how to use them."

"Apparently, I'm not the only one who is observant. Very well, if you must know, I will tell you." Denoloan said as he started to explain, "While the Chantry pretends to ignore us, in truth we are the subject of repeated attacks by their revered Templar Order. They call us heretics and their goal is to drive us out of Ferelden completely. Some of our members have taken an oath to protect this order and those who worship here. It is an unfortunate, but necessary precaution, I assure you."

"Why would they do this? The Templars hunt down rogue mages, not attack unarmed men."

"A question we asked a hundred times, ourselves. A question with a most unlikely answer."

"Explain what you mean."

"The Order of Bohlen's history predates that of the Chantry's. We were the first to speak the Maker's true words and follow the Andrastic teachings of His holy bride. However, the path we follow tends to be...a harder path... than that of the Chantry. Regardless of this, for centuries there was peace between our orders. Only over the past few years has there been real conflict. Ever since Alyesa became the Grand Cleric. While in public she was known as the most stern Grand Cleric in generations, privately though, she sought our destruction. As the years passed and her power grew, in secret she began to systematically disassemble the Chantry. She was becoming more lenient to the sins around her. Your lovely bride being the largest example of that."

"Be careful what you say..." The Warden warned, sternly. "I'm aware that my marriage doesn't exactly please the religious establishment, but they don't know her like I do." he said casting his stare straight into the demon's eyes, "And they never will."

"My apologies, Warden. I meant no insult. I was merely proving a point." Denolian offered with a humble bow of his head.

"That being?"

"We believe that Alyesa may not be at all who she claims. We think she is a foul demon whose purpose is our slaughter and the destruction of our faith. Even now she seeks to call an Exalted March against us, her army massing somewhere secret within Ferelden. As outlandish as this may seem, its the only reasonable answer."

"You're going to need to show me some proof of this claim."

"We wouldn't have brought you all this way if we couldn't provide it." Denolian said with a smile.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part XI**

Morrigan lie in her bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. She hadn't said a single word to anyone since it happened. For more than a day the witch lay cooped up in her chambers, ignoring every visitor who came to check up on her. Leliana being the lone exception. The bard felt nearly as bad about what happened as Morrigan did, and unlike the witch, she had no problems expressing it. So, Leliana entertained Alistair, Fergus, and even the elf, Zevran, when they stopped by to see how Morrigan was doing, while the witch lay in the bed with her feet propped up on several pillows, and said nothing, merely staring at the ceiling.

When a guest would leave, the bard dutifully asked Morrigan if there was anything she could do, each time the witch weakly shook her head no. Leliana didn't press the issue for once. The stress of The Warden's absence coupled with the loss of her child had reduced Morrigan to little more than a breathing lump on the bed. The only bright spot had been when Fergus brought Seth by to see his mother. The child immediately ran up to the side of the bed and wriggled his little body on top, laying next to Morrigan, who wrapped her arm around her son and held him as tightly as she could for several long minutes. But, being the impatient toddler that he was, Seth was soon squirming and eager to move from his spot. So Fergus took the child to find something else of interest, telling him that his mother needed to rest and they would be back to see her again soon.

"I'll be leaving soon." Leliana said, "We're going to Amaranthine. Alistair says he coming, too. But I don't know if Dyana will allow it."

"I need to speak with Alistair." the witch muttered, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling, "Kindly tell him for me."

The bard meekly nodded affirmative, "I'll tell him." she replied and quietly left the room in search of the king.

While she waited for Alistair, the witch lie there in her bed and thought. She thought about how stupid and foolish she'd been, and how The Warden easily accomplished the most difficult of tasks while she was unable to do anything right at all. And now her incompetence had cost them a child. All because Morrigan hung her hopes on that damned talisman. If she never agreed to go after it in the first place, The Warden would still be here with her and their child would be alive inside her. The more she thought about it, the madder she got and the more she wanted to strangle Silas, if he wasn't already dead, that is. Something else that was her fault.

The witch had often openly criticized her warden on their numerous adventures together. At times with the odd quip, at others with outright heckling. And rarely did he say anything back to her. Usually he just did what he thought was best regardless of her actions. It was now something Morrigan deeply regretted doing. She should have offered her support rather than sarcasm. But, back then, she still hid how much she cared for him and was afraid the others in their company would think her soft. She had new found respect for what he was able to accomplish, given what he had to work with.

"You wanted to see me?" Alistair asked as he poked his head inside the door.

"I hear that you are soon to leave for Amaranthine, I would ask that you stay." Morrigan replied.

"_You_ want _me_ to stay behind? Why?"

"Do not get the idea that I am in need of consoling, I merely require services only you can render."

"And what would that be?"

"I intend to use the Orbs of Arastani to contact The Warden." she answered, her head finally turning to face him.

"Are you mad? You'll draw mobs of darkspawn here, not to mention all the Grey Wardens at Vigil's Keep."

"Do you think me a fool? Of course I've considered that very thing, 'tis why I need your aid."

"Explain..."

"I've had a good amount of experience handling the orbs and am quite familiar with their uses. I believe I can contact him and only him. 'Twill not be easily accomplished, however, and I need to perfect my skills..."

"Which is where I come in, right? You need a test subject." Alistair moaned, "What if you're wrong? Last time it took three mages to control the orbs. What makes you think you can do it all on your own?"

"Twas because we invoked the smallest of the three orbs, 'tis the one that calls to the darkspawn and thus needed to be contained." Morrigan explained, "I intend to use the second orb, which called the god, Urthemiel. Given that the taint is directly tied to the orbs, I see no reason why it cannot be used to contact The Warden as well."

"It still seems like a pretty big risk to me. Especially when we still have other options."

"What options might those be? By the time your ship finally arrives in the area, The Warden will be long gone. I assure you, Alistair, this _is_ the only option."

"I don't think it's such a good idea. If he ever found out we used the orbs, he'd be furious. Especially if you got hurt. I personally don't feel like getting slugged again."

"Alistair...please. I _need_ to do this." she pleaded, her eyes telling him how desperate she was to find her husband.

"Alright, I'll help you this one time." he groaned, "And to think I used to get mad at him for caving to you all the time."

* * *

Late at night, in the guest quarters, The Warden looked over the parchment again, just to make sure he had read the words right. But each time he scanned it with his eyes, he saw the same thing. There was no denying it, Alyesa had ordered the preparations to commence for an exalted march against the Order of Bohlen. The signature and wax seal at the bottom verified the letter's authenticity. It was the exact same seal Morrigan possessed on the Writ of Exculpation. There was only one like it in all Ferelden and that belonged to the Grand Cleric, herself.

How Denolian was able to come across such a document was unknown. The priest offered no explanations as to the document's origin, saying only that he had gotten it from a "friend". If the letter was as valid as it seemed, then thousands of innocents would be killed. And even though The Warden did not agree with the order's beliefs, their slaughter was something that he could never stomach.

"You have made your decision to aid these people, have you not?" the demon-witch asked him.

"I can't just stand by while the Chantry kills innocent people."

"If these small-minded cretins wish to destroy themselves, I say let them. 'Tis all the same to me."

"You would say that." The Warden quipped, "but you know I can't allow that to happen."

"So what do you intend to do about it? Face the Templars on your own?" the false Morrigan said as she folded her arms, "I'll not have you going off on some fool's errand."

"You would have me do nothing, then?" he asked, using his hands to help convey his frustration.

The demon reached out her hand to caress his arm lightly, "Maybe 'tis best if you do not." she said, adding with a sigh, "But I know better. You will go to any lengths to save these idiots from themselves. They do not deserve you, my love."

"Everyone deserves to believe what they want. You of all people should appreciate that." he retorted sternly, "I'll go see Alyesa. Maybe I can talk some sense into her."

"A truly pointless notion, indeed. If she were, in fact, massing her forces in secret, it would make little sense to reveal it to you."

"I suppose not." he grumbled, "But there has to be something I can do."

"I'm inclined to think our gracious host has a plan of his own already, why else bother to go to such lengths in bringing us here?"

"Agreed. I still think he's hiding something, though. He and his order may not be as innocent as they claim. Rarely is one side of the story the complete truth. Alyesa can be harsh and rigid, but she wouldn't call an exalted march for no reason."

"'Tis time to put such thoughts out of your head, my love, for we've a busy day tomorrow." the demon said with a seductive purr, her lips hovering by his ear, "Let us retire to the comfort of the bed where we may better enjoy each others company." she finished, her mouth giving his earlobe a good nibble to ensure her message was received.

"You go ahead. I'll be there in a minute."

"In a _minute_?" came the demon's reply, "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" she fumed with her hands on her hips, eyes glaring.

"It means I have a great deal on my mind and I'm not ready for bed yet."

"So, I am not good enough, then? These people, whom you've only just met, take precedence over me? If that is your attitude, you can stay in here all night for all I care!" false Morrigan huffed as she turned and stormed out of the small living area and into the bedchamber, slamming the door loudly. A faint clicking of metal told him that she had locked the door behind her.

"Morrigan..." he meekly called after her with no response, "_goddammit!"_

* * *

The sermon at the temple in Highever had just come to a close and the patrons were beginning to file out of the dark building and into the moonlit street. Dyana followed along the others towards the exit, stopping near the entrance to talk to Altavar.

"That was a truly inspired message you delivered tonight." she said to the priest as they greeted.

"Captain...I'm so glad you could attend. I'm sure the Maker has great plans for you in the order." Altavar replied with a slight bow of his head.

"I could certainly feel him here tonight." she remarked with a smile, "Tell me, are these few men all the priests that remain in the temple at night? That doesn't seem very safe, given current affairs."

"Unfortunately, for the time being, it is. While more members swell our ranks with each passing day, as in all faiths, precious few have the resolute constitution it takes for priesthood." he answered with a gracious smile.

"Why only for the time being?"

"Because, soon...very soon...the call will go out to all our faithful brothers and sisters across the land. When that day comes, we shall assemble and be united as never before and the templars will no longer be a threat to us."

"When is this all supposed to happen?"

"No one knows for sure, but the master, himself. It is one of the cornerstones of our faith 'Heed the master's call for it is a joyous summons. We shall gather in the fields and march together past the shining city to the shores of the great sea and greet the Maker when he returns.'"

"I see." the captain replied, her eyes steadily trailing one of the priests as he walked from his place by the front door, to the back of the worship hall, and down a side corridor. The faint slam indicating the man had retired to his room. "If you don't mind, I would like some time alone to pray at the altar, if I could."

"Go right ahead, the Maker hears us no matter how late the hour." the priest responded with a smile, "If you'll excuse me, then, I have other matters that need my attention."

"Of course." the captain said as the priest exited with a polite bow. She slowly made her way to the altar at the back of the worship hall, remaining mindful of the last priest's presence by the front door. He was the same large man that she saw outside the temple when she was first there..

Dyana knelt at the altar, clasped her hands together, and closed her eyes, all the while keeping her focus on any sound the man behind her made. For long minutes she feigned prayer in hopes the man would finally leave. After a time she found her self actually praying for that to be the case.

If she was going to be able to snoop around, this would be her only opportunity. There was only one door leading into the temple, and it was locked at night making entry difficult. Also, what few windows she could see were little more than slits in the stone and far too narrow to climb through. So, waiting for the large man to leave was her only option.

She was convinced that Altavar wasn't telling her the whole truth and she figured to find out more. In order to do that, she would have to break into his private office down the main corridor near the front of the structure. If her exploration yielded no results, she would have to come back another day and search his private quarters in the back of the building. But none of that could take place until the last priest standing by the door decided to shift his attention elsewhere.

Eventually, then man saw Dyana was going to be a while and decided to address the large locker on the far wall. She heard the distinctive "click" of the locker door being opened. She cast he glance slowly over her shoulder, winking out of one eye, to see the man with his back towards her as he pulled a large pike from the locker, grabbed a stone from drawer in the bottom, and began to sharpen the long weapon.

She leaned back to her feet, still crouching, and swung around as silently as she could. Her leather boots made no footfalls on the stone tile under her feet as she crept out of the worship hall and down the corridor. Once the captain arrived at the appropriate door, she grabbed one of the candles hanging on the wall, and checked her surroundings to verify all was clear.

As she expected, the door was locked, but the lock was old and simple and gave the captain little trouble in disabling it with her basic set of lockpicks. Dyana gently pushed the door open without making a sound, checking over her shoulder periodically. Once the wedge was wide enough, the captain scampered inside and closed the door behind her.

By the soft, flickering light of the candle, Dyana combed the desk inside the room. On top were a few papers, but nothing of interest. Likewise for the small drawers contained in the desk. No matter where she looked, all she could find were benign papers concerning the normal day-to-day operations of the temple. The captain nearly gave up when she caught the glint of metal reflecting the candlelight.

Over in the corner was a small wooden chest that was tightly locked shut. This lock was much more sophisticated than the rusted one on the door. Try as she might, Dyana could not get the lock to spring free. Her repeated attempts bringing more and more frustration and a neglect for the sounds she was making. Finally, after many tries, the lock popped open. Dyana flung the top back and reached her hand inside, retrieving a rolled up parchment from within the chest.

Quickly, she unrolled the paper and held it up in the light. She had to squint hard to make out the words in the candle's faint glow. It appeared to be instructions for Altavar. It read:

_The Warden has been successfully removed. He can no longer be a problem. Continue preparations for the ritual. The Calling comes soon, my faithful servant._

_-Denolian_

A chill ran trough the captain as the letter's meaning sank in. Altavar _had_ been lying to her. Not only was the order behind the attack on the king, but the disappearance of The Warden as well. The order was up to something big. Just how big, the captain didn't know. But these people were evidently quite capable of using many different means to accomplish their goals, that meant they were large enough to have some influence. If that was the case, whatever their plans were, they would surely affect all Ferelden. She hastily rolled the parchment back up and stuffed it back in its place.

Dyana's heart froze in her chest when she suddenly heard the click of the door latch behind her. With a quick puff, she blew out her candle, closed the chest, and crawled under the desk. A small sliver of light from the corridor outside seeped into the room as the door opened. Slowly it got wider, until the dark shadow of a large man's head poked around the door. For long seconds Dyana could feel the man's eyes scanning the room for anything out of place. The captain's heart pound inside her so much that she was sure the man could hear it.

"Hmm..." the man muttered, then swung the door closed, the room once again going dark. The captain heard his steps get more faint as he walked down the corridor. A large sigh of relief escaped Dyana and she climbed out from underneath the desk and crept to the door.

She slowly pried it open and looked down the hallway. Seeing no one, she slid out into the corridor and silently made her way to the front door. The large priest was nowhere to be seen. The captain reckoned he retired for the evening, thinking the temple was empty. Hope turned to panic when she reached the door to find thick, heavy chains wrapped around each handle, with a large padlock holding them in place. She was locked in!

* * *

The Orbs of Arastani were stored in a secure part in one of Castle Cousland's cellars. Behind a locked door that was rigged with a trap lie a magical barrier created by Morrigan. Inside that barrier was a black metal chest that contained the orbs. It took quite a bit of persuading on both Alistair and Morrigan's part to get Fergus to go along with the plan to retrieve the orbs, the teyrn having no desire to see his castle overrun with darkspawn again. Only after Morrigan was able to convince Fergus that there was no threat of a darkspawn invasion, did he finally agree. In the meantime, Leliana and Zevran had departed for Amaranthine, on their way to meet up with the ship, Gryphon, and search the area near Dragon's Tail island.

The next day, the witch spent several hours trying to make headway with the middle-sized orb. She remembered most of the incantation Flemeth used to invoke the orb's power, however, Morrigan had yet to figure out how to contact anyone at all. Alistair stood idly by as she made attempt after attempt at contacting him through the orb, and each time he would reply that he felt nothing at all.

The witch was starting to lose hope in the idea, thinking maybe there was no possible way to use the orb in such a fashion, after all. Then a thought popped into her brain. It suddenly occurred to her that she had been going about it all wrong.

"Wait for me here. I shall return soon." was all Morrigan said as she went out the door.

Long minutes passed while Alistair waited in the cellar for the witch to return. He tried to talk himself into leaving a couple of times, but failed to find the nerve to actually do so. Just when he had almost gotten brave enough to actually leave, Morrigan came bursting through the door once more, a vial of thick, dark liquid in her hand.

She handed the vial to a perplexed Alistair and went over to the corner where she drug out an old cot that lie covered in dust. "Sit here, and drink." she commanded after knocking most of the cobwebs and dust from the cot.

The king squat down on the cot and held the vial in the light, "What is it?" he asked.

"Just drink it." the witch quipped as she grabbed his hand and raised it to his lips, "'Twill aid me in my efforts."

"Alright...if you say so..." he muttered as he tossed back the vial and downed it's contents, his face grimaced as he swallowed hard. "Makers breath! That was awful" he exclaimed. "What was that any..." Alistair was unable to finish his question as he slumped backwards onto the cot, out cold.

"Twas a sleeping potion." Morrigan said with a wicked grin.

The witch reasoned that while they were controlled by the taint and connected to it, the orbs primarily worked as part of the Fade, it was logical to assume she might more easily find her quarry if he were already there. Unlike the spell that Jowan used to send her to the fade back at Redcliffe, which would be impractical in this instance, only Morrigan's thoughts would be projected into the Fade, via the orb.

The witch turned her focus once more on the orb that lay perched in its small metal pedestal atop the wooden table. Once again she uttered the incantation she heard her mother use, and as before, the orb started to come to life, a faint glow appearing deep within and growing ever brighter.

* * *

Eldrich led The Warden and false Morrigan once more across the compound to see Denolian. The priest had asked for The Warden to take the night to consider what was said and they would talk again on the matter. So Eldrich dutifully escorted the couple to the temple gardens under the bright morning sun. Long flowering vines draped the temple walls here, a stone path wound it's way by many carefully manicured flower beds and rows of hedges. Near the center Denolian stood with his hand outstretched, a small bird perched upon his finger. With a high chirp, the bird flew from Denolian's finger as the trio approached. The high priest turned to face them, nodding at Eldrich, which seemed to be both an acknowledgment and a dismissal, as Eldrich humbly bowed and turned to leave the way he came.

"I trust you had a restful night." Denolian said as he extended his arm in greeting to The Warden.

"Yes, quite." The Warden answered, even though his lower back and neck were aching from having slept in a cramped chair in the corner.

"Good. Have you had a chance to consider my request? The Order of Bohlen will certainly need the help of The Grey Warden, himself, if we are to survive."

"I'd like to help, but what can I do?" The Warden asked.

"There is only one thing that can be done. Deep in the southern Korcari Wilds lies an ancient temple built by the order, lost to time long ago. Inside its stone and marble walls is a relic, the Eye of the Maker. It is said to have the power to protect us from our enemies in times of need. It was a gift from the holy bride herself to, Jacoby, the founder of our order."

"And you want me to go and get this...relic, I take it?" The Warden said, already knowing the answer.

"Once again, you are quite perceptive." Denolian acknowledged, "Indeed, we ask that you seek out the ancient ruins and retrieve the Eye from within. Only its power can save us now."

"What exactly does this 'Eye' do?"

"It is said the Eye is capable of shielding whole cities from harm through the projection of an immense magical barrier. We would invite our brothers on the mainland to the island and use the power of the relic to defend it."

"It doesn't sound like it protected your old temple very well, if it lay in ruins."

"Quite the contrary, legend has it the Eye protected the temple until the priests inside had become old and gray. Since our order waned as the Chantry grew, there were no members to replace the elders after they died and the temple was abandoned."

"Do you have any clues as to where in the wilds this temple is?"

"All I can tell you is that it was rumored to be three days journey due south of what used to be Lothering."

"That's not very specific. But I've had less to work with before."

"So you agree to help us, then?" Denolian asked as a grin spread across his face.

"It looks that way." The Warden concurred.

"Excellent! I shall arrange transport for you back to the mainland as soon as your ready." the priest said, and excused himself with a bow.

"So, we are off on another ridiculous adventure, are we?" the demon asked when they where finally alone.

"I guess so." The Warden answered as he took her hand and they began to stroll through the garden. "If this Eye can do what Denolian says, then I have to at least try. I don't want anyone dying over this."

"But they invariably do." false Morrigan noted, "I still say 'tis best to leave them to their own devices. But since you feel you must help these wretches, you will no doubt need my services. And besides, someone has to keep an eye on you."

The couple found there way to the back of the temple gardens, where a large pond stretched out before them. Water lilies and other aquatic foliage lined the edge. Mist shrouded the dense forest on that lay across the water in the distance. The Warden knelt down and picked a smooth, flat rock from the ground with his left hand and flung it over the water, watching as it skipped across the surface a few times before going under.

"Ha!" laughed the demon, "I can do better." she said as she in turn knelt down, and with her right hand, picked out a suitable rock of her own, grasping it, and tossing it over the pond as The Warden had done. Hers skipped two more times than his before sinking to the bottom.

"So you can..." was his muttered reply.

The pair left the gardens and returned to their quarters on the other side of the compound. Once inside, The Warden began to rummage through his belongings, pulling both his weapons and armor from his pack and putting the gear on.

"Expecting trouble so soon?" the demon-witch asked when she saw what he was doing.

"Possibly." was all he said.

"Ooh, how _mysterious_. Will I be playing the part of the damsel in distress?" she joked, "I expect you'll be after some reward in return for rescuing me."

"I finished with your games." he remarked coolly.

"I do not like your tone. What are you talking about?"

The Warden reached over his shoulder and drew his blade and held it across the demon's throat, pushing her all the way back against the wall. "Dwemer! Have you lost your mind? What do you think you are doing?"

"Shut up!" he yelled, "I don't know who the hell you are, lady, but you are definitely _not_ my Morrigan!"

"Do not be absurd! Wherever would you get such a preposterous notion?"

Because I know my wife, and you're not her!" he said through clenched teeth, "I have to admit you had me fooled for a long time. I only started to suspect anything recently. Your performance was nearly perfect, but not quite."

"I have no idea what you mean." the demon said, continuing her denial.

The Warden pulled his blade back behind his head, and with a mighty heave, started to bring the deadly edge down onto the demon's throat. "Alright! Alright!" she cried as she released the witch's form, revealing her true nature at last and giving pause to The Warden's blade. Instantly his connection to the genuine Morrigan resurfaced. He felt her clearly, somewhere to the distant south.

"A demon. I should have guessed." he said, "What's going on here?"

"Everything is as it seems, Warden. My services were merely employed to ensure your would truly come."

"That's a lie. Demons aren't 'employed' by anyone. Tell me the truth, or I'll separate your head from your shoulders."

The demon did not answer, choosing silence, instead. "Tell me!" The Warden shouted again as he raised his sword high. Again he brought down his blade, but this time with no intentions of stopping. The demoness, realizing his seriousness, covered her face with her hands as she cowered. Bright flames engulfed her and she vanished in a puff of black smoke, leaving the air with the smell of sulfur and brimstone.

"Shit!" The Warden exclaimed, turning to grab his pack before rushing out the door. Surely the demon would alert Denolian to what transpired and the priest would be inclined to change his hospitable stance towards The Warden, and instead, come after him. He needed to find a way off the island quickly, but the only boat he saw on the southern side was the one he and the demon arrived in. There was no way he could use it to get back to the mainland as it required the demon's power just to remain afloat. Denolian had mentioned that another vessel was docked somewhere else on the island, most likely somewhere along the northern coast. That meant going through the dense and twisted forest. Even the temple dwellers stayed as far from it as they could, believing the place to be cursed. So, naturally, The Warden located a lower section of the outer wall, scaled it, and disappeared into the tangled forest beyond.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part XII**

Denolian was in his private office at the front of the worship hall, sitting in his luxuriously cushioned chair, staring into his mirrored vanity, and admiring himself with a pleased grin. He was a content and happy man. As of late, everything had been going according to plan, save for the failed attempt on the king and the maleficar -a minor affair that would be rectified soon enough. More importantly, The Warden had been sufficiently distracted and was no longer a threat to the order. Denolian so greatly feared The Warden's influence and abilities, that the priest made removing Ferelden's great hero the first priority.

And the plan worked to perfection. Denolian had even persuaded The Warden to retrieve the 'Eye of the Maker'. A small chuckle escaped the high priest as he thought about it. None of these fools had the slightest clue what was really happening. When the time came for the Calling to commence, Ferelden would at last bow its knee in submission and Denolian's greatness would finally be restored.

A flash of bright orange and yellow flames followed by a puff of black smoke caught the priest's attention as his head snapped around. The desire demon appeared before Denolian in her true form, something that the high priest found unexpected. "What happened?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The demon knelt down on one knee before Denolian, her head bowed and gaze downward. "I have failed you, my master. He knows."

"Hmm...I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. No matter, he is here now and that was always the point." the high priest responded calmly.

"He ran into the forest." the demon said, finally raising her eyes to face him, "None of the men will follow him in there. If you allow me to go after him, I swear he will return whether he likes it or not."

"No, that won't be necessary. Your task is completed and I will soon need you elsewhere, my dear."

"What do you intend to do about him, then?"

"I shall let the forest deal with him. He'll wander about lost for days until he dies of thirst and hunger."

"What if he finds the path to the other side of the island and discovers what you have hidden there?"

"He'd need volumes of sheer blind luck in order to do so, as well as it is hidden. Even if he found it, he would never know it. The forest decides the path of its own will_**;**_ one need only know what to look for to follow it. And fortunately, The Warden hasn't a clue." Denolian assured.

"As you wish, my lord." the demon replied, bowing her head once more.

* * *

Dyana trudged up the dirt road back to the castle just as the early morning sun was rising over the horizon. She was covered head-to-toe in the most vile grime and filth. She spent all night digging her way out through the back of the priests' lavatory. It took her hours of digging through the disgusting muck in the pit beneath to finally get the dried mortar between the blocks to give way and allow her to remove enough of the small stone bricks to make a hole large enough for her to crawl through. In the process, she was caked in the putrid slop. Clumps and various bits were stuck in her normally well-kept walnut hair. Dried mud and other compounds covered her face, the streaks from profuse sweating being the only places where bare skin was visible. Her clothes were in absolute ruin, little more than tattered rags steeped in sewage.

The guards at the front gate had trouble recognizing the captain in her soiled condition at first. With her familiar steely look affirming her identity, the men hastily waved her through, if nothing more than to no longer be downwind of her. The other members of the castle gave Dyana an especially wide berth as she made her way through the courtyard and into the castle, itself. A few of the castle servants literally ran off in another direction when the aroma hit them as the captain stormed up the stairs to the second floor and Fergus' study.

The king and teyrn were in the study awaiting word from the Gryphon that she set sail in search of The Warden. When both men smelled the captain coming before they saw her, their heads quickly swung around to see the source of the foul odor as Dyana walked in.

"By the Maker! What is that awful stench?" Alistair howled, his face scrunched in a grimace.

"I'm afraid that would be me, your majesty." the captain said humbly with a polite bow.

"You stink like shit. What could you have been doing? Gong farming?" Fegus asked while he covered his mouth and nose with his hand.

"Something like that. I have urgent news, my lord. I believe I've discovered the people behind everything that's been happening." Dyana informed.

"That's wonderful! And I want to hear all about it..._after_ you've had a chance to clean up a bit." Alistair said, sounding a bit guilty, "I'm sorry...but I can't do this right now. The smell...is just too horrid."

"I understand, your majesty. I will make myself more presentable." the captain replied, bowing deeply as she excused herself.

"Are you sure you want to ask _that_ to dinner?" Fergus asked with a chortle.

"Oh, be quiet." the king grumbled back.

Shortly afterward, Dyana returned, her appearance vastly improved, and informed both men of what she discovered: that the Order of Bohlen was behind everything that transpired, including the dragon attack. That also meant they were the mysterious employers of the blood mages who were paid to free to demon. These men were not as pious as they would have everyone think.

It was decided that the captain keep her revelations concealed for now, at least as far as the order knew. She would again attempt to infiltrate the temple and search for anything else that might give them a clue as to what this 'calling' was and what significance it held in the overall scheme of things. It had to be important, whatever is was. Dyana had heard Altavar mention it, as well as seeing it referenced in the letter.

* * *

The heat of the midday sun bore down on the forest, making the air sticky and humid. Sweat rolled from The Warden's brow while he trudged along through the thick tangle of trees. He was having a difficult time maintaining his bearings. For hours he walked a nearly straight path, only to seem to get absolutely nowhere at all. The vegetation around him never changed, the trees and bushes all looked exactly the same as the ones before. He tried varying his path and changing directions, but to no avail.

The connection with Morrigan let him know that she was sick with worry and extremely upset. He had to find a way out of these confusing and cursed woods and get back to her, to let her know he was alright. But the forest around him refused to cooperate and he was stuck going nowhere, frustrated.

He stopped to rest, leaning against a tree to catch his wind. The salty sweat stung his eyes, and he scanned his surroundings, trying to see anything at all that resembled a possible direction of travel. But everywhere his eyes went he saw the same trees, and the same clumps of bushes. Even the fallen leaves on the forest floor appeared to be in a repeated pattern around him. He laid his head back, resting it against the tree.

A faint sound started tickling the inside of his ear. He listened closer, trying to make the sound out. With a shove, he pushed himself away from the trunk and headed towards the noise. With quiet steps, The Warden sought out the sound, which soon revealed itself to be a babbling brook that wound through the forest. He quickened his pace to find the stream. He knew the water flowing within had to go somewhere. Following the water could lead him out of these perplexing woods, or at least to another part of it. And right now, anything was better than looking at the same few trees over and over.

The Warden spread his hands apart to cut through a rough bush, stepping through into the wet stream hidden behind. The small creek looked as though it wound a good way through the dark forest. Water splashed all around as his steps kicked it about, walking along the stream as if it were a liquid path for him to follow.

The brook meandered through the forest, turning and weaving wildly as it went, but The Warden felt at least he was getting _so__mewhere_. The trees were beginning to look different, as well as the bushes and other brush. His feet and legs were soaked to the bone, and ice cold, but still, The Warden labored onward, until the stream came to an abrupt end as it dove into the ground beneath a large gray boulder.

The Warden pulled himself from the water onto the muddy bank and sat down. One at a time, he slid his boots from his feet and dumped the water out on the ground beside him. He set the boots aside, trying to let his feet dry, and sat there contemplating his next move. He debated on heading back upstream to see if maybe he had gone the wrong way. However, looking at his wrinkled and pruned feet convinced him to keep going the way he was headed and hope for the best. Maybe he had gone beyond the cursed wood already and the forest here would be more amiable to letting him pass.

A noisy squawk from behind kept interrupting The Warden's train of thought. The call of the creature was annoyingly wretched and he was unable to tune it out of his mind. It was as if someone kept puffing on a small and horribly out of tune horn. The Warden swung is head around and glared at the bird, which grew suddenly silent. Its large body was covered in bright red plumage with a bluish-green ring around the neck and three long, thin golden feathers that grew from the bird's crown. An oversized, downward-curved beak of yellowish-orange hue hung from its face, giving the creature a rather silly appearance, overall.

"Skwonk!" the bird cried out as soon as The Warden's back was turned. Sharply, he snapped his head around to stare down the creature once more. And again, the bird looked away, as if trying to seem innocent. The Warden eyed the bird suspiciously for a few minutes, but it made no sound. Slowly, The Warden turned back around and attempted to return to his thoughts.

"Skwonk!" said the bird, even more loudly.

"What the hell is wrong with you, bird?" The Warden shouted, becoming frustrated.

To which the bird replied, "Skwonk!"

The Warden grabbed his boots and pulled them back on. He stood up and walked over to the tree the bird was perched in order to get a better look at this strange creature. But as he drew nearer, the bird jumped from its spot and flew to another tree some yards further away, crying out with its obscene song like it wanted The Warden to follow, which he did. And again, when he got near the tree, the bird flew off to another, squawking loudly as it went.

"Alright, let's see where you take me." The Warden said while he followed the odd bird deeper into the forest. For hours the duo played their odd game of tag, all the while leading The Warden to another part of the forest. They continued until he was miles from where he started and the long shadows of evening crept over the woods. The bird perched on a limb near what looked like a small clearing, allowing The Warden to approach closer than he had before. And just before he was able to reach out a grab it, the bird gave what looked like and approving nod before leaping from the branch and flying off into the darkened forest with one last noisy "Skwonk!" for good measure, leaving The Warden alone once more.

* * *

It had taken Morrigan quite a bit of practice, but she felt that she had perfected her methods at last. Although she experienced no pain or discomfort after the miscarriage, the ordeal had left her substantially weakened and she found herself only able to work for short periods of time. As a consequence, it took far longer than Morrigan would have liked, but eventually, she was able to use the orbs in the fashion she desired.

The witch had been right about using the Fade as sort of a bridge, having been successfully able to contact Alistair as he slept. There was a problem, however. Once Morrigan located Alistair, she was unable to get him to understand her. To him, everything happening in his dream was real and she was merely part of it. Try as she might, the witch couldn't get the king to realize where he really was. And afterward he had little or no recollection of what transpired, his dreams fading fast from his memory. Her only hope lay in the fact that The Warden had traveled to the Fade before and, like a mage, saw it for what it really was. She knew of no reason why he wouldn't be able to do so again.

And that night, as her warden lie sleeping in some far away place, Morrigan used one of the Orbs of Arastani to creep into his dream. It took her some time to locate him, the distance between them seeming to impair the orb's abilities to some extent. She put all her focus into searching out his distinct presence among so many others in the crowded Fade. Once she felt him, she followed the feeling as it got stronger the closer she got to him. Until, at last, she stood in the Grey Warden's encampment at Ostagar.

It was just as she remembered, having spied it before while in wolf-form at the edge of the wilds. Many large and colorful tents had been pitched beneath the shadow of the Tower of Ishal, while knights, mages, and elves all scrambled about to prepare for the coming battle. There was the shadow of a figure standing near the large bonfire that raged continuously. The witch had to shield her eyes from the glare of the flame before the figure was revealed to her. It was _him_. Her warden stood next to the fire, Leo by his side. His arms were folded, his brow tightened in deep thought. Something was deeply troubling him, Morrigan realized.

The witch's heart soared inside her bosom and she started to sprint towards him, eager to be reunited with her warden, if only for a moment. She stopped dead in her tracks, however, when she witnessed another man approaching the fire. He was the one Alistair referred to as "Duncan", Morrigan noticed, and he didn't appear to be very pleased at all. He stormed up to The Warden, folded his arms and said, "Well...what do you have to say for yourself?"

"What do you mean?" The Warden asked.

"You know full well what I mean." Duncan retorted sternly, "You've willingly neglected your duties on repeated occasions. It's disgraceful! And now I'm told you've chosen to settle down and start a family. With a maleficar, no less! You are a Grey Warden; such things are not meant for us."

"Duncan...I..."

"No! Not another word! What you've done has shamed us all!" the elder warden fumed, "You are not worthy of the title 'Grey Warden'. You disgust me. Get out of my sight."

A look of regret hung on The Warden's face while he turned from Duncan and walked away from the fire. A gasp escaped Morrigan, having heard the entire exchange. She had no idea that he felt as he did or that it troubled him so deeply. The Warden was a man who took his ideals very seriously, and his self-perceived selfishness was tearing at him constantly. This was a part of her warden that the witch didn't like seeing. She felt the strangest urge. Her gut compelled her to try to do something to make things better for him. It mattered to her that he was bothered, especially considering she was the cause.

"Dwemer!" she shouted, running to him.

He looked around, as if he heard her shout but couldn't tell where it came from. She cried out his name again as she neared. This time he turned his face directly towards her but he still did not see her clearly.

She grabbed his arm and squeezed, "Please, you have to listen to me!" the witch pleaded desperately.

"Morrigan?" he said, puzzled, "What are you doing here? I haven't met you yet."

"'Tis but a dream, my love." Morrigan said, trying hard to say the right things to get through to him, "We are in the Fade. Do you not remember?"

"No, no, no. This is all wrong. You shouldn't be here. We haven't gone into the wilds, yet."

"The blight ended long ago. 'Twas you that stopped it, remember? You are dreaming."

"I'm dreaming?"

"Yes, my love. You are dreaming."

"Then that means you're not really here, doesn't it? It means...it means I'm lying alone somewhere on a cold forest floor. And... and I'm still trying to get back to you..."

"What of the demon?"

"Demon?" he asked, confused momentarily, "Oh...right. The demon. She was pretending to be you, but I found out. She vanished, I think. It's so hard to remember anything..."

"Can you tell me where she took you?"

"An...island. That's it. A big island in the sea."

"Alistair sent a ship to search for you. You must find a way to reach it." Morrigan urged. Her tone then softened, "You must come back to me. I miss you. I...I need you." she said.

She grabbed his hand and softly squeezed. The glossy looked faded from his eyes. He was fully aware at last. Without hesitation, he wrapped his witch in his arms as tightly as he could. "Morrigan...my, Morrigan." he whispered to her, "I will make it back to you. I swear it."

And even though they were not truly together, she still felt the warmth of his lips as he pressed them to hers in a deep kiss. Her knees became weak and she fell into his arms, her hands pulling him closer to her.

"My time is nearly done." she said after he released her, "I will be unable maintain this connection for much longer." the witch's statement confirmed by the fact that she had already begun to fade from view.

"Morrigan! Don't leave!" he pleaded.

"You must find Alistair's ship. Whatever you do, you must come back to me safely..." Morrigan barely had a chance to finish before she faded completely from his view and was gone.

"_Morrigan_!" The Warden yelled at the top of his lungs, desperate to bring back his witch.

* * *

"Morrigan!" The Warden exclaimed, violently waking from his dream. Sweat trickled down his cheek while early morning rays of sunlight pierced the leaves in small patches around him. The dream had left him shaken and his heart hung like a lump in his chest from longing. He knew it was really her that was in his dream, his connection letting him know that she was greatly relieved.

He remembered everything. She said Alistair sent a ship for him. He needed a way to get off the island and find it. That was no small order. He hadn't even been able to find his way out of the frustrating forest yet, let alone find a means off the island. He knew he didn't have a great deal of time, either. The ship would only be in the area for a short while before leaving. And lastly, there was the task of actually locating the ship in the vast open sea.

He stood from his spot against a tree and stretched his arms and aching back, which popped loudly while he let out an approving grunt of relief. He looked around slowly, trying to get his bearings. To his right was a large clump of shrubbery that blocked the view beyond. However, it seemed that there was more sunlight coming from behind the bushes than from elsewhere. He reached out his arm and bent the bushes back with his hand, trying to see around the shrubs.

His eyes were greeted by a lush meadow with low rolling hills that ran from the forest's edge down to the shore at the back of the island. The Warden could see two smaller piers extending out into the water, bracketing a larger one. A medium length ship was docked at the larger pier, while a smaller craft occupied the leftmost one with the pier on the right being empty. Down the shoreline a bit, he could see three more piers that were still under construction. The pilings had been driven into the murky sea bed and a skeletal framework of wood connecting the pilings had been erected. The rest was unfinished. Piles of wood and material scattered near the small beach illustrated that the other piers would not remain incomplete for long. Why the order would need so many places to moor ships was unknown. As far as The Warden was able to tell, this island wasn't anywhere near the normal shipping lanes.

Built atop one of the hills was another structure constructed in the same style as the temple, only much larger in size. The tall stone walls surrounding the complex were some three hundred feet long in any direction. The towers of a large central building stood proudly above the rest of the structure. Meanwhile, the gate on the southern end was opened with two large men clad in red robes guarding it.

The Warden looked back and forth several times between the small boat docked by the shore and the walled compound, trying to find the nerve to forget about the mysterious structure, and instead, just head for the boat. But his curiosity won out, as it always did, and he silently crept from the forest's edge and across the meadow towards the compound.

He crouched low to the ground, hidden among the tall grass. When he came to the top of a small ridge, he lay down and peered through the grass, observing the towers and the two men guarding the gate. He noticed the towers were apparently manned, at least on this side of the complex. The two back towers in the southern wall each contained a pair of men, their eyes scanning the surrounding area vigilantly. Still many more men lay inside. The Warden could hear them. He figured their numbers to be in the hundreds - many more than the few priests at the temple on the other side of the island.

A horn trumpeted from somewhere inside the compound. Three long blasts echoed off the stone walls, the sound startling several groups of birds in the meadow into flight. The men at the gate immediately ran through it, as if heeding a call. Likewise, the men in the towers disappeared from view. The Warden, not believing his luck, hopped up from his spot and moved in closer, hiding against the wall just by the gate.

Stretching his neck around the corner, The Warden was able to peer inside. What he saw forced the color from his skin. The interior of the complex was huge. A large main building with a tall tower on each side lay near the northern end. Along the east and west walls were long buildings that looked to be housing of some sort, possibly barracks. In the center were the things that concerned The Warden most.

It seemed he had gravely miscalculated the number of men inside. Before him stood an army that numbered in the thousands. They stood assembled in rank and file, facing north towards the main building. There were many banners denoting companies and brigades. These men were covered in shiny plate armor and carried finely made weapons. This was no mish-mash of peasants; this was a highly trained and capable fighting force. Why Denolian hid an entire army away was a complete mystery to The Warden. But it was one he intended to solve.

Two figures appeared from the main building, walking down the steps to stand at a large podium made from black marble. The first was shrouded beneath a pitch black robe, his face covered by the large hood. The second was adorned in a more elaborate red robe than the other members of the order, his being lined with white and gold symbols and markings.

The men gathered below began to shout, "Hail the Black Warden!" over and over until it turned into a loud chant. The dark figure put out his hands to silence the throng.

"Faithful soldiers of the Maker!" he called out to them, "Our time is almost here. Soon the Calling will unite us and we will march across the face of Ferelden and purge it of the evil that infests the land. Work steadfastly my brothers. We only have a short time left to prepare."

When the black figure finished, a large ovation erupted from the assembled men. They cheered the man wildly as if he were their greatest champion. The noise was deafening, made worse by the reverberation off the stone walls.

"Hey! What're you doing?" a man's voice shouted at The Warden. The Warden turned to face the voice and saw it to be one of the guards returning to his post. "You don't belong here!"

The Warden quickly pulled his blades from their sheaths against his back. In a flash, he twirled around and impaled the robed man with his cold steel. Both blades sinking deep into the man's stomach and he slumped to the ground.

As the Warden withdrew his swords from the lifeless body of the first guard, he looked up to see the second guard some distance away, also returning to his post. The man stopped in his tracks upon seeing The Warden and the other guard lying dead beneath him.

"Oh, shit." The Warden said, spun around, and ran from the gate as fast as his feet would carry him.

The dumbfounded guard finally regained his senses and began shouting "Intruder!" which rang out across the compound.

The Warden could hear the shouts of many angry men rushing to the south gate. The men in the towers returned to their place and rained down arrows on him as he attempted his escape, their sharp points whizzing by him, inches from their mark. Dodging, ducking, and weaving, The Warden scrambled to get across the field to the pier and the small boat docked there. He looked over his shoulder to see a tangled mass of men running after him, weapons drawn. Some of the men were fast, gradually overtaking the rest of the pack and gaining ground on The Warden, whose armor, light though it was, hampered his speed.

He drew his blades and turned to face the first soldier who had far outrun the rest. The man raced forwards, thrusting out his sword before him. A loud clang rang out as The Warden deflected the soldier's attack. Seeing that he didn't have much time before more soldiers were on him, he shoved the soldier's blade to the side with the sword in his left hand, while the sword in the right forced its way deep into the unfortunate man's chest, stabbing between his ribs and piercing his heart.

With a desperate shove, The Warden pushed the soldier's limp body away and resumed running toward the boat as fast as he could. Stopping to fight the first soldier had cost him distance and he knew he'd have to face several more soldiers by the time he reached the dock. And just as his feet reached the wooden pier, another soldier's blade lunged for him. The Warden dodged to the side, grabbed the man's arm firmly with one hand, and popped his elbow backwards with a quick blow from the other. The soldier let out a yell of agony as his sword fell from his hand and clattered harmlessly against the pier. The Warden kicked the man's legs out from under him and pushed him backward into the water.

The Warden jumped into the small boat, which was barely fifteen feet or so in length. The single mast in the middle held a lone sail. To The Warden's dismay, however, the sail was still gathered up and not ready for use. Fortunately there were two oars fixed near the middle of the boat. He drew his blade and cut the rope that was tied to the pier.

As The Warden pushed the vessel away from the pier, another soldier raced to the end and jumped off into the boat, his weapon readied. The Warden wrapped his hands around the mast and pulled backward with all his might, causing the boat the lean hard. The soldier stumbled, and just when he was almost able to grab the side and hold on, The Warden swung around the mast to the other side and pulled hard again, forcing the boat to wildly swing the other way. The soldier was thrown against the opposite side of the boat, tipped back, and fell over the side making a large splash. The Warden sat at the oars and began to row the boat farther from the pier.

The rest of the soldiers made their way to the dock, standing at the end and shouting. Some threw their weapons at him, which bounced harmlessly off the side for the most part, while a few others jumped in and attempted to swim after him. But they were unable to catch up to The Warden as the boat moved away from shore and into the open sea.

When the threat from the men on shore was passed, he was able to notice that the larger vessel didn't seem to have anyone aboard. That meant it would take some time before they were ready to pursue him. He unfurled the sail as rapidly as he could. He was no sailor, but he was able to get the simple rigging working and the sail filled with a stiff wind, blowing him away from the island. The Warden looked back at the compound to see the black robed man standing on one of the towers, observing him until he was out of view. A cold glare emanated from somewhere beneath the figure's black hood. The Warden knew it wasn't the last time he would see this man. In the meantime, he sailed his boat into the open waters on his way back to his witch.

He figured it was best not to linger at sea more than was necessary, as the small boat he stole was hardly made to brave the sea. If he was unable to locate Alistair's ship, then he would do his best to make it to shore on his own. It wouldn't be long before the order was able to launch the other ship and come after him, added to that were to dark clouds forming overhead that threatened to release a turbulent storm very soon.

Taking the small vessel southward, he left the island behind him in the distance. The waves started getting higher while strong winds blew the storm front in from the north. The gusts improving his speed vastly, but the boat would still be overtaken by the storm before long. If he didn't see any sign of Alistair's ship soon, the boat may be brought to the bottom by the coming storm and his escape from the island would have been in vain.

To the southeast he saw a glimmer of white against the horizon. He pulled the rudder sharply and headed for it. He stood in the boat and shielded his eyes from the glare, staring off at the dark speck with the white top in the distance. His hope rose when he recognized the object as a large ship heading toward him. Soon he was able to make out all three masts of the speedy ship that closed on him. The Warden could have cared less of those aboard were pirates or not.

The ship had gotten to within a few hundred yards of him and was still approaching quickly. The closer it got, the more he was able to make out the details on the vessel. The ship sailed under the royal banner, with the Theirin coat of arms proudly displayed on the sails. The deck was heavily manned by sailors in like uniforms. But the most convincing evidence that his rescuers had come was the loud, high-pitched, gleeful squeal that came from the ship when it was nearly upon him.

"Leliana..." The Warden said, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.


End file.
